


The Gala

by TitanPandora



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Victorian, CarrierVerse, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Germany/Italy relationship test, Implied Mpreg, It was an experiment with a style so please just read it, M/M, Mpreg, Victorian Attitudes, informal use of A/O/B, italy hates Germany at first oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitanPandora/pseuds/TitanPandora
Summary: For the brothers, their hearts have always been locked away, awaiting the love story their parents painted for them. For Feliciano it may come in a German boy with sweaty hands and a nervous tongue. Though he vouch for him to never find love, he hopes he only finds love in him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you’re a fan of my blog @aphgermanysass you were probably pretty confused when I disappeared. My blog was sadly terminated for some stuff that I did on a different blog so it was sad to see all my Drabble that got deleted. Though nonetheless I took a small break and came back with this story. 
> 
> It was beta briefly by a very friendly girl on tumblr, but though my account was terminated I forgot her username, so if this looks familiar please just comment below and I’ll give you all your credit! 
> 
> Thank you for reading so much and please if you enjoyed leave me a comment!

In the deep, cascading forest of thick trees and vines all colored abstract colors of green was a castle, or more or less a house. It was large with circular columns that reached as high as the sky and a pointy witch hat top. Windows were decorated with gold and perfect metalwork swirling together to create an image of pure aristocratic mood. 

In the house lived a small family, the man of the house was an Italian immigrant who could conquer the finest oil paintings. From thin fingers he would create the art of the century. However with so many paintings, he thirsted for some kind constant muse. To find them he took many trips to exotic lands filled with foreign women. His travels would lead him all around the world from the isles of Greece to the industrial powerhouse of England, having a great time by himself. 

However he would take a spur of the moment trip to the new America, its beauty and undiscovered land was whispered between aristocrats. 

The man, Romeo Vargas, was more excited to see the vast scenery and the women. He was a modern day Casanova, promising young, virgin women a spotlight in a painting. That always was able to have the women swooning, however for young Helena Frots, she was far from interested in the artist and by the one and holy God, it drove Romeo nuts. 

He’d never met anyone like Helena Frots, until he stepped into her family’s mansion to meet a woman of such beauty. Romeo was commissioned early on by the family for a portrait, and the American couple were willing to pay a loathsome amount. So he was expecting to come in and paint a lovely image of just a family and woo one of the maids, not to have found his heart stolen by the family’s daughter. 

In the end Romeo Vargas would find his inspiration and muse, and it was Helena. From the way she held herself with her long blonde hair and face like a doll, soft and like porcelain. His sketchbooks were filled with her lovely face, sketched and painted to hopefully get one inch of her attention. 

Helena at first wanted nothing to do with this annoying young man who squabbled for any attention. He was around when she would go out to the garden with her girlfriends and it bothered her so immensely. It was like she couldn’t go anywhere without seeing that red hair peeping behind a black sketch book. 

At night she would close all her blinds for fear she’d wake up and see that familiar head of hair outside her window. Though, she couldn’t kid herself when her heart would swell and her chest get tight when he walked in the room. 

Romeo knew how to get right to Helena’s heart. One night she was too tired, and the gala being held in her parent’s ballroom was constantly making her head pound, so she disappeared. Romeo noticed when he couldn’t find her lovely face and went searching for the beautiful woman to be sitting alone in one of the many parlors. 

“Miss Frot, fancy seeing you here,” Romeo found his voice, his exotic accent twisting his words in a lovely scrawl. 

“Mr. Vargas,” Helena started in her whipped tone, but found as she stood up from the bench that she was much light headed. She collapsed back onto the couch, Romeo on her in moments, a careful hand placed against the small of her back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t feel like myself today.” 

Looking up she found that Romeo had the most beautiful eyes, ones the swirled with specks of brown and green. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, “have you eaten today,” before she could answer him he put out a finger for her to be quiet, “I should fetch you something.” 

He let go and suddenly all warmth she felt had disappeared, and her body longed for it. Laying on the bench, she stared at the ceiling understanding what he meant. The gala was stressing her out to be honest, she didn’t even get to eat breakfast today from the whole planning process and tight corset being fitted for perfect posture. 

Romeo came back with a small platter of just plain bread with two sides of butter and jam. He also had two glasses of wine, one less full than the other. “My mother always said that wine could cure any illness,” he smiled offering the platter. 

“Thank you, Mr. Vargas, I must have misjudged you from our first meeting, you are truly a gentleman.” With a silver butter knife she spread the butter, taking time to lick away a little excess on the knife. When she made eye contact with Romeo, she giggled at how uncouth she must have looked. 

He laughed too, leaning in so close she could practically touch foreheads with him. 

From that fateful interaction, Romeo’s day would be filled with making sure that Helena had her fill of breakfast, lunch, tea time, and exactly at six- dinner. He was like a stray dog, following after her while she took her midday stroll through the garden, talking to her about his family in Italy and the beauty of flowers that reside in the garden, “but” he would add with a smirk, “they could never matched your beauty.” 

Kissing the droopy lily in his hand he’d place the stem through a lock of gold. She’d blush and it was a little win for Romeo. 

On the first day of the month, Romeo had finished the family painting and decided to show it off to the public rather than just the family. Though to the surprise of many, there were other pictures he added to the parlor. Abstract paintings of the garden, lovely images of the creek that resided just beside the mansion, but in every painting Helena was there. Sometimes just sniffing flowers or playing with the fish in the creek, but it only emphasized the love that Romeo felt for her.

When he finished the painting it was like the clock on his watch told him it was time to head back to Italy. His trip was coming to a final hault with his money drying up and family sending a multitude of letter wondering when he was coming back. He didn’t wish to go, it was like ripping an organ from his body, he couldn’t operate without his Helena. 

She was struck with a fury of all lightning when she got the news of him leaving, she was frustrated and mad that she played victim to his love games. Romeo was an animal that came in and wreaked havoc, before disappearing without a trace. This hurt him, deeply, to have that kind of disappointment be expressed by someone he loved. He promised her he would be quick the morning he left; he’d leave without a trace. 

That didn’t sit with Helena, she loved him so much but was hurt so deeply with his departure. She made sure she would be the last person he saw before leaving for Italy. He’d see what he was leaving behind. 

So when the morning struck, Helena awoke to light footsteps retreating through the old house’s floorboards. In just her nightgown, she followed them down to the front door, just barely catching his figure leaving.

“Romeo, oh Romeo wait just a moment!” Helena called, almost tripping over her long nightgown as she stood in front of him, cheeks puffed and fists clenched, “I wanted to be the last person you see before you leave, so you don’t do this to other women like me, I’m not some kind of harlot you woo and then throw off the balcony when you’re tired of my face. I have more dignity.” 

Proudly she fluffed up her shoulders, trying to not crack when he turned around, his face filled with grief. Lifting a gloved hand he placed it on her cheek, it slowly sliding down her shoulder to her hands, “my dearest Helena, how many times do I have to explain this, you are my home. I am deeply in love with everything about you. Leaving this place is like leaving my lungs in your possession.” 

Her whole facade cracked, heart shattering and breath getting short as she stared into his beautiful eyes. “Romeo,” she whispered, “it feels like you are taking my lungs with you. I don’t want to be just a fling of yours, I just want to be yours.”

His other hand came up to hold Helena’s face, stroking gently across her cheek bone before leaning in to press his lips to hers, it was a little win when she leaned in responding positively, “the moment I get back, I’ll marry you,” he promised her with a look of dedication, like a soldier promising his parent’s he’d stay alive during the war. 

With that he’d leave even before the sun would ever reach the top of the sky, for in the wee hours of the mornings he made love to Helena with a promise to be her husband the moment he stepped back into America. Leaving made his heart ache, but he had to be with his family once more before telling them the news.

Romeo, now feeling much older, came back to Italy with a new found renaissance for painting his love for Helena. He sent her multiple letters, all sealed with gorgeous hand painted images of things he’d see in Italy and pressed flowers. 

Helena on the other hand would wait impatiently for each and every letter, writing hers and dousing them with perfume so Romeo could smell her. She tried her hand at drawing, it was pretty bad she would admit and even though Romeo swore up and down that it was splendid, she knew when he lied, even in letters. 

Romeo’s grandmother, an elderly woman that watched over him since he was little, was getting fed up with the constant letters she was receiving at her door and how he’d run around like a drunken idiot, just because of love. She ordered him to go to America and just marry the woman and stop driving her up the wall. 

Like that he was gone the moment she said it, with a kiss to the cheek he thanked her for everything and made her promise him to come to the wedding even though ships weren’t her favorite. 

Romeo would show up at the mansion late at night with a ring that had Helena’s name on it. No really, it had her name engraved inside the band; Helena Vargas it would be. 

Romeo was certainly smitten, she had ruined every single woman for him. He couldn’t look at a crowd of women just having come out to the public without comparing them to his flower. 

Take this woman for example, she came around exclusively to the Frot’s family home, a friend of the youngest Frot. She had long ebony hair and warm brown eyes, but Romeo could only think to himself of how blonde hair would look beautiful on her and her almond eyes no match for Helena’s wide and excited blue one’s. 

In all words possible, Helena ruined the Casanova inside Romeo, and she prided herself on that. 

Their wedding was extravagant, it was the talk of the year from the silk drapes and Helena’s long wedding dress made especially for her by a French seamstress. She looked so beautiful Romeo wept at her feet, because out of everyone she chose him and he was beside himself in love. 

During the wedding, Mr. Frot would reveal his big, elaborate gift to his eldest daughter, and that would be their own house. A huge garden, gold painted windows, even a staff already hired. Romeo thought it was lovely, but not the paintings in the house. 

He’d have them all taken down, tossing them violently down in the basement or attic to put up his own artwork. Beautiful art of his wife and landscapes of Italy, and soon their first born. 

Helena would give birth to her first son, Lovino Romano Vargas two years into her marriage. The bouncy baby boy was a fussy one, he would cry for hours and it wouldn’t be until they got so scared there was something wrong that they had a doctor check on him. 

The doctor would diagnose an early fever, but Lovino was a strong baby and got rid of it in just a few days. Helena and Romeo would have no problems with the boy, even though out of all their friends’ babies, he was the loudest by far. It seemed that whenever Helena would leave him, Lovino would take it to call her back to him with loud wails. 

As he grew up from a crying baby to a wobbly walker it would seem he had a love for the garden. There, Helena would send him off to play and he’d appear with different things. Sometimes covered head to toe in dirt with a worm in his hands or a flower he dug up from the roots. Romeo would create a painting of his son cutely covered in dirt, rather than try his hand on those new fancy cameras coming into popularity. 

When Lovino reached six, Helena surprisingly became pregnant again. She hadn’t prepared for another baby, she was very content with just her little Lovino, but she guessed another angel had to wiggle it’s way to bless her again. 

Veneziano Feliciano Vargas was his name, well to his family he was Veneziano in a very angry tone which he knew very well he was in trouble, but everyone else would go to call Feliciano, because it was easier to say. The little surprise baby and by god he was the happiest baby to ever grace the earth. Some say that instead of crying, he came giggling and laughing out of the womb. 

Of course it was just a wives tale, Helena was there to vouch that Feliciano was indeed a screamer just like his brother. However past birthing, he was naturally a quiet baby. When he needed something he would scream, but other than that he slept peacefully through the night and when Helena left the room to deal with her daily tasks, Feliciano would play with his toys. 

Lovino, bless his heart, was over the moon with being a big brother. Most of the reason Feliciano didn’t cry when Helena left was because Lovino was the one occupying him. Lovino taught himself how to diaper his own brother and sing the right tune to put him to sleep. 

Helena was in the right mind to have his secondary gender out. It was weird, mostly a taboo thing to ask your doctor to make sure your baby was a boy and completely a boy, but Lovino would come out as a boy and carrier. Of course there was nothing wrong with that, but in this day of age you had to be hush hush about those things. 

Being a carrier in this society wasn’t less meaningful as being a woman and most mothers who found out their son was a carrier would simply teach them the same things as the girls. It was a bit harsher, because most people looked to carriers as the superior aristocrat. 

They were brought up to be tough skinned, yet gentle and manipulative. Helena knew the way to treat Lovino and Lovino knew the way to act so they worked perfectly. 

He took his training seriously, most mothers would tell their carrier sons to be just like Lovino, because he was the star icon. A rich family with a well behaved carrier son was the ideal of the time period. 

Veneziano on the other hand, was a daddy’s boy. Right from birth, he would crawl into Romeo’s office and he’d give him some spare paint to draw his own pictures. 

With a figure like Romeo to look up to, it was no surprise Feliciano became such a great artist. At the young age of eight he already had his paintings in galleries. 

The Vargas family were a much desired among the average American household, even though they were commonly portrayed as good natured people, but what was most desirable was marrying into the family. For being married to just one of the sons, you’d be forever set until the day you die. Both the boys knew that, their hearts were kept locked, because their parents told them their love story and both of them wanted just that. 

To have a boy just be so infatuated with them seemed like a fairytale, but Helena told them it was achievable if they just waited for the right boy to come waltzing into their life. 

Now older and presented in the society as young bachelors, it seemed every male on their block wanted some attention and Lovino wouldn’t give them the time of the day while Feliciano was just too much. 

Feliciano, now discovered to be a carrier just like his brother, was mostly portrayed as fickle by those exact boys. His head was constantly in the clouds, but it was a good thing, because he had a knack for drawing them. He wore bright colors and fingers were always stained with oil colors. He had a natural personality, just a bubbly individual who loved to hear himself talk. The average male wanted a partner to be much more polite, than the gem that was Feliciano. 

While on the other hand Lovino was more polite than his brother, but he would not give any potential partner any time of day. He was known to constantly be busy with his work around the house and his studies, any male looking for a date was put down immediately by the Carrier’s complex schedule. Other than that he held very little to no conversation, it was like he couldn’t have an actual conversation with a male unless he was over the age of sixty. 

With their polar opposite in personality, they’d only show being related by their outer appearance with both having Romeo’s fiery auburn hair and deep brown eyes. From Helena they’d take her curvy shape and lovely wide eyes. Each of their waists were tight and narrow just right for the time period and sought after across all potential suitors.

Today, the story will be placed on a very special day. Like many of the Aristocratic families spread across the American coast, they’d get together for a meeting per say, because most of them called it a gala. Mother always talked to her boys of how fondly she thought of galas. They were lots of fun for bachelors just like themselves looking for someone to spark their fancy. These dances were suppose to be fun and extravagant to the youth and adults. 

This gala would be held in their grandparent’s house, so the familiarity gave Lovino a rest on stressing about the layout of the building if some male corners him. Feliciano on the other hand took this to hang some of his paintings around in the parlors, with so many people coming he loved for them to use his paintings as conversational pieces. 

Even as prepared as they could with knowing the basic dances, it was still Lovino and Feliciano’s first Aristocratic gala. So they still had to dress the part (much to Lovino’s dismay, he had no knack of fashion in bones.) The dress in style were the bigger the crinoline, the better and Lovino was about to throw himself off a bridge from hearing that phrase in every sentence. Mother had commissioned same French seamstress that made her wedding dress to make their dresses, who had a English Carrier draw out the designs to be masculine, but feminine. 

In the end a maroon dress with many bold designs showed up at Lovino bedroom door and he was almost reluctant to throw it in the trash like he was planning to. It was soft and delicate, but he felt suffocated in it either way. If he could have it his way he would never wear another skirt for the rest of his life, but apparently his smartly pressed slacks weren’t going to cut it for a gala. 

The servants went ahead on squeezing every nook and cranny of his body into the tight stupid dress. The frayed lace on the wide neck line to show off an expensive necklaces was scratchy and the huge skirt that had to be propped up with a crinoline was uneasy to walk in. He always felt he was going to smash his new shoes into the metal frame and somehow get it stuck. 

On the finishing touches at his mirror he looked at himself feeling a heavy stone rest in his squeezed ribs. He looked dumb, but it did look nice. The maroon fabric really brought out his hair color and the gold fabric design made it look expensive, which it was. The skirt was open to show exotic patterns all the way from India he believed. But still, he hated dresses. Mark his word, he’d burn each of his in the fireplace when Mother turned around. 

Feliciano on the other hand was so excited when he got the parcel of the different dress. His was a dark blue, it was almost a royal blue from the colors. It had beautiful hand sewn sparkles and pearls that Mother knew he loved exactly. Feliciano was more distracted with the way how everything shone when he spun. Unlike Lovino who glared at himself in distaste at the expensive clothing, Feliciano bathed in luxury. 

If he could wear the big diamond necklace and long earrings with sapphires to match his dress he would. Feliciano always had a soft spot for jewelry, truly the way to his heart was giving him things that had a sparkle. 

All dressed up for this gala, it was like they were the king and queen of every area. Lovino felt powerful like he could crush you with his foot and Feliciano was so gorgeous men had to double take when he sauntered down to the carriage.

Outside awaited a Clarence, which was like a luxury carriage, it was closed in so if it were to rain you’d be protected or if the sun was just too bright. Feliciano got in, situated on the leather upholstery while Lovino took up the business of telling the driver to get a move on and not wait on their parents. 

Helena and Romeo were already at the gala, since it was held at the brothers’ grandparent’s house they had to get everything ready before the guests arrived. Helena emphasized that they should be on time, but even as structured as Lovino was, he got a bit carried away at looking at his reflection in the mirror. 

The driver told him he’d make haste so Lovino squeezed his way into the carriage, pushing at the dresses wide opening. “How do these even work?” He snarled more to himself, not missing to glare at Feliciano who giggled at him. 

“It’s like watching a newborn deer walk for the first time,” he teased, watching as his brother’s eyebrow twitched and nose scrunch up, “now come on, tell me why you are so stressed out, I can read it all over your face, it’s gonna give you wrinkles,” he said in a matter-in-fact tone. 

Lovino couldn’t help the way his one eye twitched angrily, “it’s nothing, Veneziano, you know how dressing up stresses me out.” 

Oh, Feliciano frowned, he used his full name. He must of been really stressed if he used his first name, “well when we get there you can dance your cares away.” 

Rolling his eyes at Feliciano who made extravagant hand motions of dancing, Lovino simply crossed his legs, “no, you know I can’t dance. I’m finding my suitors the easy way, through their mothers.” 

“That’s no fun,” Feliciano poured dramatically crossing his arms. 

There they met their brick wall, the divide that they always had and never could understand why the other was so different. Feliciano turned his head to stare out the window, listening to the carriage’s loud clicking sound on the cobblestone road and Lovino was playing with his bracelet. There was no more conversation on night activities, because Feliciano already knew the answers, Lovino was gonna be boring. 

Like they should, the brothers arrive to their grandparents mansion fashionably late. Feliciano was overjoyed to see his paintings placed around the parlors, father had said he might take some of them down to hang his own, but he didn’t seem to live up to his words

By a servant, they were lead to the ballroom that always seemed to wow guests, even though they have been there multiple times. It was a round room with tall windows that almost reached the ceiling that held the most beautiful chandelier. Every candle was lit on it, letting a shadow that looked similar to the ocean waves dance across the floors. 

On a high stage was a quartet, playing for the dancing crowd who bathed in the crystal lightning. This is where the brothers separated, Feliciano was attracted and pulled to the dance floor while Lovino slipped his way towards the refreshment table to scope out someone to schmooze. 

Picking up a crystal glass of wine he searched for his parents, but found no lick of them. A little discouraged of not seeing his mom, he moped towards the parlor where he spotted a frail, old lady sitting alone on one of the benches. She was viewing one of father’s many paintings. In shaky hands she held a pair of spectacles up to her old eyes seemingly inches away from it. 

“It’s a lovely painting, huh,” Lovino announced himself with ease listening to her gasp and turn towards him, “my father is truly a magician when it comes to paintings.” 

She smiles at him, “why, I believe he is one too, you must be Lovino, Romeo’s oldest carrier son. The rumors I hear are true, you are the beautiful gem.” 

Lovino couldn’t help but blush at the compliment, pressing a hand to his chest with a little giggle escaping from his coy expression, “I’m pleased I live up to everyone’s expectations,” he promised her. 

Across the room Feliciano had perfectly integrated himself into the dance floor. It was easy for him to push his way into little girl groups, they already knew him and welcomed him with open arms to join in the fun games that were played on the dance floor. 

Feliciano loved to dance to put it simple, he loved spinning round and round and finding someone to match his pace. An ideal suitor was one who could have fun, just how he liked to enjoy everyday. So the Galas were an easy way to pick out the party poopers, because they didn’t like dancing (example being Lovino).

As well as weeding out the grumpy people, the dance games gave young bachelors and bachelorettes the ability to meet new people just like them. To be held close by a stranger was exciting and easy to judge who was the best by looks. Feliciano even liked to tell them his name if they really tickled his fancy.

The game right now was a star like dance, female and carriers who were single would get together in a starlike shape while the men who were also looking for someone to fancy them were on the outer circle. 

First the circle would go one way, the outer would go the opposite, then it would rotate. Every dance was perfectly figured out and predicted, even if it was fun there was a sense of direction and structure. Something Feliciano thought Lovino would of enjoyed, much to his dismay. 

The star in the middle would stop and move to the suitor perfectly adjacent to them. Feliciano was able to scope out the prey, all the different woman and carrier he knew all of them particularly well from tea time, so it was more looking at the men. 

For the adjacent man he turned to was a tall young man with a pretty cool scar through his eyebrow. His hands were warm and smile was soft, it was like Prince Charming with every black hair perfectly laying. “I’m Feliciano,” he whispered with a slight giggle to his voice. 

“Anthony,” the man smiled back, it was a big goofy kind of smile. 

Then just like that, they were whisked back into the star shape to change partners. The next suitor was an average sized man with pale white hair and these interesting red eyes. He swayed Feliciano close to his body with strong arms, an alarmingly honey smell quaffing. “Feliciano,” he could only say, stunned. 

“Gilbert,” his voice was a bit scratchy, like he was screeching before coming. They bowed at each other and back to the star they went in. 

The game was fun a twist of different men with many ways of dancing, however Feliciano would turn into a man who he would wish he didn’t, but at the same time there was something that attracted him. 

His face was strong, square and he looked to concentrating really hard on their feet. His hands were sweaty, something Feliciano didn’t want to feel through his gloved hand and he had a strong grip on his wrist (not his hand?) and especially to his waist. He didn’t dance close like Gilbert or practically lift you from your spot like tall Anthony, this man was a mess. 

“Feliciano,” he was a bit hesitant to say his name, careful words placed as the man narrowed his eyes. 

“Ludwig,” his voice was deep, it sent shivers down his spine. That was the only redeeming quality it seemed. 

The star dance was done, the participant clapped for the orchestra that serenaded them. The older, married and widowed folk hung back with warm smiles because young love was just so romantic. 

Feliciano had a new pep in his step, ready to turn and ask Anthony for another dance, but found he was already chatting rather intently with a smaller male carrier. When the orchestra picked up, Feliciano wouldn’t lie that his excitement deflated when Anthony asked the other to dance rather than him. 

That was okay, he told himself, he’ll just dance with Gilbert. Searching around, it was easy to find the white haired man. He seemed so odd and maybe that was the part that really drew Feliciano in, or maybe the part about dancing really close it would make his parent’s blush. 

“Good Evening, Gilbert,” Feliciano approached when the time was best, giving his best curtsy. When he raised his head he found the white haired man was paired with the younger blond with the sweaty hands. 

His cheeks were flushed like he ran a mile, but he hid it behind the punch in the crystal cup. “Ah it’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Carrier Vargas,” Gilbert’s voice was charmed as he gave a deep bow from his diaphragm, “Ludwig, this is the host’s youngest son, Feliciano, I’m sure you danced with him during the star game.” 

“Yes, I did,” Ludwig words were quick and carefully crafted, he too pulling out the deep bow. 

“Let me make our acquaintance,” Gilbert smiled giving his hand, Feliciano was quick to place his in the other and allowing the gentle kiss be press to the back, “I am Archduke of Germany’s eldest son and this is my little brother Ludwig, I heard you are from Italian aristocrat descent, is that true.” 

Archduke, huh, “Ah, kind of, my father is the Romeo Vargas and he has painted so many aristocrats over the years they now think he’s part of the family.” 

“Do you paint?” Gilbert asked, “Ludwig and I saw these gorgeous paintings in the gallery, we were beside ourselves from just the beauty.” 

“Some of them,” Feliciano smiled bashfully, “my father had hand painted each of the paintings in our lovely house, I simply paint to paint and mother always hangs them up somewhere.” 

Gilbert nodded and gave Ludwig a big pat on the back that made the other lurch forward a little, “Ludwig here thought your paintings were very realistic, right buddy.” 

Ludwig took a careful drink, glaring daggers into Gilbert’s head, “they are good,” he put simply then to really put the nail in the coffin he said to himself, “I’ve seen better.” 

It was like someone punched Feliciano right in his face. One to insult his art, but it was another thing to insult a piece that could have been done by his father. “I beg your pardon,” he asked pretending he didn’t hear what he said, to really make sure it wasn’t his ears. 

“I said, there is a better painter in Germany, his work is very good to my standards.” 

Taken back he put a hand on his heart, “I should have you know if you believe the Vargas family’s art is not good for your standards they must be lower than the basement floor.”

“Ahaha he was just joking!” Gilbert jumped in giving Ludwig a big elbow in the side, “what a card, right.” 

“I must have lost my funny bone, for I’m not laughing,” Feliciano narrowed his eyes at the older boy and back to Ludwig who was meeting his fiery gaze. “I must be going, I must meet my guests tonight, for our best sake, I hope we never cross paths.” 

Before he turned away he faintly heard Gilbert sigh, “good going Ludwig.” 

Across the room in the quiet parlor, Lovino was currently doing his job of tending to the widows and older folk. For now he had been roped into sitting down by a wrinkly old woman, her skin a dark brown and grey hair pulled in a beautiful bun of curls. With one hand braced on a handcrafted cane, she held the young boy’s hand in the other. 

“For how I wish to be young just like you,” she mused patting a shaky hand to his cheek, “I miss my youthful days when I could run for days in my garden.” 

“You have a garden?” Lovino smiled, “I, too, love to garden, right now I’m growing so many beautiful flowers.” 

Her eyes seemed to shine with a spark of life, “what kind of flowers have you been planting and what cream do you put on your hands, they are perfect for a working carrier like yourself.” 

Lovino laughed at her quirky jokes and told her about the different flowers and how some were only exclusive to the Vargas garden during the seasons. During the summer seasons, everything was partially bright and flashy, something that made the whole garden pop. 

If a suitor ever wanted to make Lovino talk forever, just ask about his plants, because he and the older widow continued their chat till the gala was almost done, tea kettle completely empty.

They got off topic about the different guests, Mrs. Fernandez (the old woman’s name) had made a comment of a woman’s hat that looked absolutely putrid. The long green feather that dangle off of it almost looked to be a toy given to a cat. 

“My grandson brought a woman once to tea time who wore a hat very similar to that woman’s, I said to him, that woman has no taste in hats and she won’t last and you know what happened, she left him.” Lovino hummed, nodding like it was the most interesting thing in the room, “you know what, you have a great sense in fashion.” 

Laughing to himself, he set the cup on the little plate in his other hand, “Mrs. Fernandez, I’d be a mess without my mother to choose what I wear, this dress was made for me by the famous Francis Bonnefoy.” 

“Ah he is quite the seamster,” she agreed, “a very popular name in Carrier fashion it seems these days. I am old friends of his husband’s mother, quite a nice English lady.” 

“Really,” he egged her on, “their family is scheduled to visit for a gala, my mother is great friends with Francis, so much she opened our house to him and his family.” 

She gasped brown hand covering her lips, “my grandson needs a carrier like you, someone who always knows what is going on in the household, a good fashion sense- the list is so long I could go on forever.” 

“I’m sure he’s great,” Lovino smiled looking off in the crowd for once in the night to make eye contact with his brother who made some pretty dramatic hand motions, “I’ll have to excuse myself, Mrs. Fernandez. It was a pleasure to be in your company this evening.” 

“No the pleasure is all mine,” she smiled slyly, giving the other an affectionate pet on the shoulder. Getting up from his comfortable seat on the couch, he moved quickly and quietly around the ballroom, quick to avoid anyone who would want a dance. 

Feliciano was by the refreshments, a crystal glass in one hand and a small pastry in the other, “oh you wouldn’t believe the person I just met,” he said very hotly, which was very unlike Feliciano’s personality.

Lovino would get an earful of this presumably enemy of their family which was the Archduke of Germany’s youngest son Ludwig. From the awkward hand point to a man standing in the corner like an outcast, Lovino could believe it. 

“He said-“ Feliciano had to stop to collect himself, breathing a hot breath, “he said that my paintings weren’t as good as a German painter. Isn’t that the most inconsiderate thing for someone to say to the host family. I could have kicked him out.” 

“But you didn’t,” Lovino was quick to remind him, “I’ll speak to this archduke son and brother tomorrow about not disrespecting our family during the outdoor mingle. God bless these month long mingle meetings.” 

“I don’t God bless them, they are the work of the devil himself,” Feliciano bit back, excusing himself to leave in a huff. Lovino pressed a careful finger to his chin, sizing up the meat across the room. 

This archduke kid didn’t look too tough and the look of it he looked kind of nervous, it must of been his first gala as well. He made a mental note to pester mother about the man behind his fan. 

The music would start up, Lovino making his leave as quickly as he came, however in the parlor he couldn’t find Mrs. Fernandez, a damper to his mood immensely. 

Where could that old woman could of gone?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could go wrong with a lovely garden mingle and a dinner. Oh Lovino could tell you exactly what could go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lads and lasses! I hope you are enjoying my story as much as I am. This chapter stands as me trying to develop the plot. 
> 
> If you have any questions or wish to comment really anything, don’t hesitate to such. This story wouldn’t be running without your constant love! 💖

Now without the music and the empty dance floor, it felt so lonely. Feliciano, who was still dressed in his beautiful gown, watched from afar as the servants packed up the refreshment table under the supervision of mother who was more than happy to pluck a cake from their platter. 

Lovino was beside her, like usual, telling her the relays of what went on. Poor mother and father had been whisked away by the Archduke of Germany and that man could talk for hours about anything and everything. Which then Lovino brought up about his two son’s, the ones that insulted the paintings. 

“You know,” Romeo had said to Feliciano, “not everyone is going to appreciate art like we do. Sometimes the best thing to do is take their criticism with a grain of salt.” 

By God, Feliciano wanted to do that, but that was the first time he didn’t have someone woo over his paintings and it felt bad. His critique was mainly pushed towards someone better than him and it just made him boil. If that Ludwig, or whatever his name was, ever appear before his eyes and try to apologize, Feliciano was sure he’d punch the living daylights out of him. The damage had surely been done and it settled uncomfortably in the young bachelor’s stomach. 

“Veneziano,” the name called for him, he turned to Mama and Lovino who looked upon him, “it’s time for bed, come along.” 

Standing up, he quickly pushed his chair in to not make too much work for the servants and ran to them. Mama gave him a warm look taking his hand and petting it, “my little rosebud, I see you have been thinking about what that man said about your paintings.” 

“I cannot stop thinking about it,” Feliciano mumbled, “I’ve never been so insulted.” 

A hand pressed to his shoulder, “it was his first time at any gala,” Lovino spoke in his usual soft and meaningful tone, “you might of made him nervous.” 

It was kind of true, Feliciano did have a knack for being a rather upfront and bold person. Hearing it was Ludwig’s first gala it might of been another tick for him to be so sweaty, but it was still foul to him. Germany was such a far off place it seemed almost weird for them to come to an American gala, unless they wanted something. 

Shaking off the weird thought, Feliciano took towards his room in his Grandparent’s house, it was a small one that had a bathroom that connected with Lovino’s bedroom. Feliciano however wasn’t too busy like he usually was when it came to his devout skin care routine, he simply chucked off his dress, throwing it over one of the couches and hopped into bed. 

Tomorrow was unlike the gala, but an afternoon mingle in the garden, everyone would be dressing in beautiful gowns and dance in the summer sun. Something Feliciano was very much hoping to do. Maybe tomorrow he’d catch the tall man he danced with alone, without the small carrier who seemed to catch his fancy or the young man with sandy hair and the broad chest. Gilbert and Ludwig were thrown out the window, good riddance to those two. 

—————————— ——————————-

Lovino never had been so focused, his hand was shaking at just the need to rip that goddamn weed. “This isn’t your garden,” Mother had made it perfectly clear, “your pants are brand new and very expensive and I’ll know if you dive into that dirt since it rained last night.” 

It was nice for an informal meeting in the gala, but it was another thing to be in a garden where weeds were just begging to be ripped out. Lovino, a devout gardener, was beside himself in grief at the abuse this garden was facing, it should be a crime! Though he hoped the repercussions weren’t too bad, because this was still his sickly grandmother’s garden. 

His grandma, on his mum’s side, had opened her house prematurely before she fell ill. For all his life, he couldn’t imagine her walking around, because she’s always been bedridden. Tuberculosis had taken over her life, and sadly his mother’s life as well, as she took to caring for her. It saddened him that instead of basking in the sun at this beautiful mingle that she was stuck inside caring for Grandmama. 

However, he had to stay vigil, keep the Archduke’s sons away from Feliciano was the key that Mother had asked him to do and he was never one to go against the wishes of his mother, so he decided to move towards the gazebo, sighing at the cool shade it provided him and how it gave him a pretty good overview of the whole party. The fancy hat he was forced into wearing had seemed more for show rather shielding his skin so the shade was much needed for this operation to run smoothly. 

It was as if he was one of adventurous men carrying operations in his novels. They’d be strong capable of their wild task of exploring the desert, or defeating the evil. He couldn’t help put pretend he was a knight, ready to slay the dragon, his name being Ludwig, for the beautiful Prince Feliciano. 

Standing against the railing Lovino sighed dreamily of the idea, looking out among the guests. Long green vines that grew from the top of the gazebo fell like tresses, framed with lovely roses that had climbed up from the bottom. Even though it was poorly maintained, Lovino somehow found the beauty in the plants, they were his favorite to be exact. 

From below the gazebo, an older man stopped finding himself staring at the hot sun that basked down against everyone. Moving his curly brown hair away, he wiped a gleen of sweat that appeared on his tan brow. 

From the sun, his vision moved to the plant run gazebo, he found his mouth going dry at the pure beauty that hung out of the window. In his twenty eight years of living he’d never seen someone look so natural between a garden. It was as if he grown just like the flowers, weaving his way through the vines to stand his ground. 

“Grandma,” he found his voice, as he turned to find no trace of the woman, “Abuela?” 

Where Lovino stood he had a great view across the room to watch over the Archduke’s siblings, the one with white hair and then the blond one. Behind them was this big ol’ tubby freeloader who had as much jewelry as a woman going through her midlife crisis. 

He gave a heavy pat to the tall blond’s back sending him lurching forward from the unexpected abuse, the drink in his hand almost flying out of his hand. The white hair rat of a man just took it from his brother and pointed towards a gaggle of single. The boy blushed and looked a little more sweatier than before. 

Scanning the group he saw Feliciano in the middle leading the conversation, red bells went off in Lovino’s head as he saw the blond making his way towards the group. Turning to quickly make his exit he almost rammed into the old woman making her way up the porch. Out of instinct he grabbed her frail shoulders to make sure he didn’t topple her over, but this also lead them face to face. 

He immediately recognized the old brown wrinkles and soft smile, “Ms. Fernandez!” He quickly curtsied, but looked over her head to see the Ludwig closer than ever, “almost didn’t see you there, but I must excuse myself.” 

“Now now,” she gushed, “where is such the rush, I want to introduce you to someone.” A young man appeared from beside the gazebo with two drinks in his hands and Lovino felt his heart beat out of his chest at the sight of him. 

It wasn’t like love at first sight as the fairytales would love to spill. He was tall and broad chested, a head of curly brown hair and the most beautiful green eyes he laid eyes on. “Abuela, don’t run off like that,” the young man scolded in a fond tone. 

Lovino was speechless, “this is Lovino Vargas, Antonio, he’s young, single, and look at his hat taste, much better than that Ester girl you brought to dinner.” 

“Grandma!” Antonio whined throwing an arm around the elderly woman, though he seemed alarm and a little too used to this, the two seemed to have a conversation with only their eyes, “I’ve told you a million times to stop trying to set me up with every single person you meet.” 

“His father is Romeo Vargas, the famous painter,” she brought up as Lovino was star struck, those green eyes the color of leaves in the warm summer sun was like Cupid’s arrow through his heart. A bright red blush was crawling up his cheek in a patchy formation, “he painted the ceilings in my dining room, his father hit on me the whole time he was stationed in Spain.” 

Putting his hands behind his back, he dug his nails into the soft flesh of his palm to try to focus more on the pain than those pretty eyes, “Ah yes, my father was quite the casanova,” he said smoothly, surprising himself at how he handled speaking for the first time, “still is now, much to my mother’s dismay.” 

“Are you anything like your father?” Antonio had asked with a quirk to his lips. 

Shaking his head wildly, he pushed a flushed hand through his hair, “I’m just waiting for the one,” he couldn’t help the dreamy sigh. Talking about the one he almost had a premature heart attack looking over to see Ludwig in the group, “oh my stars I’m sorry I need to deal with the Archduke’s son.” 

“Of Germany?” Antonio had asked, taking a hold of his shoulder, but immediately let go when Lovino brushed him off like it was hot coal, “I know them, like Gilbert is my best friend. What could they have done so fast.” 

“They insulted one of our paintings in the parlor, well Ludwig did to my brother. Kind of last thing the Vargas family wants to hear.” 

Antonio cringed visibly, “really now, it’s Ludwig’s first gala after his coming out party, he never was a man with his words. I’ll come with you.” 

Oh gosh, Lovino was going to combust, someone up there in heaven needed to strike him down so he didn’t have to be around this statue of a man, however he did the next best thing. Just try not to look interested, he’d not pester him too much and maybe, just maybe, he’ll get bored and be out of his way. “Fine,” he muttered lamely. 

Walking towards the group he could already hear Feliciano’s angry voice, pointing dramatically in the blond’s sternum, eyebrows narrowed down as he gave the other a piece of his mind. “Okay, okay, shows over,” Lovino went between them, but more pushing Feliciano away while Antonio handled Ludwig. “I told you not to talk to him, don’t agitate a dead cause!” 

“Well he came up to me with a lame excuse,” Feliciano told Lovino before directing his accusing finger at Ludwig, “just because it’s your first gala doesn’t excuse your behavior last night, it was my first gala too!” 

“I never knew American Carriers to be so tight lipped,” Ludwig bit back angrily. The others around him gasped. 

Antonio gave him a mighty good jab in the shoulder, “just apologize already and let this all be over, you two are both rich, influential people, so it would best if you could be friends.” 

“Over my dead body,” Feliciano hissed, “mark my words, any man or woman with the last name Beilschmidt shall be cursed to never find any love.” 

“Well good, I hope the Vargas family shall be in the grave soon so they don’t paint anymore ugly pictures that hurt my eyes.” 

“Oh go back to your country you are as useless as a lame boy.” 

“You voice could make a thousand men drop.” 

“Well you-“ 

“Well you-“ 

“Both of you shut up!” Lovino yelled, silence carried over the whole garden, everyone was staring at him, “this isn’t the playground anymore, we aren’t five, we are adults so stop acting so spoiled and just make up.” 

“How about you back off, I don’t have to take orders from a carrier like you,” Ludwig voice of heavily laced with fury, fists in a tight grip. Before he could step any closer, he was pushed violently away by Antonio, Lovino one love life couldn’t take the rush of adoration he got from Antonio showing off his well defined biceps. 

“I thought I taught you something,” Antonio voice was smooth, not seeming to waver with the anger that was practically residenating from his pores, “never, ever, under no circumstance shall you ever lay a hand on a carrier or woman, they are works of art that should be viewed. Now get out of my sight before I start something violent.” 

The point was taken, Ludwig got off the ground, dusting his suit pants off, even though there was mud stretching up his back. The rain, Lovino remember absently, Mother was right when she said if he bent down his slacks would get messy. Ludwig however disappeared with a huff. Lovino wasn’t expecting to be grasped around the shoulder, looking in those gorgeous green eyes that made his cheeks flame up with blush. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked searching his body for any scratches like a worried mother, “I promise you, Ludwig isn’t normally like that. He’s usually a gentleman.” 

“Usually a gentleman,” Feliciano voice snapped from beside them, “that man wouldn’t know gentlemanliness even if it smacked him in the jaw,” he would leave in a similar huff, heading more towards the house. 

“I’m okay,” Lovino was able to stutter out, “I should probably head after my brother.” 

Antonio didn’t let go of his arm however, giving him just a small tug back to him, “let them cool off, I just met you don’t you want to chat a little bit. The party is still going on, isn’t it?” 

He gestured widely to the garden party that seemed ignorant by hot scene that just unfolded. It left a facade of serenity that Lovino couldn’t help but bask in. Turning towards the man who made his cheeks grow hot, he found a sheepish laugh in his chest. 

“I mean, I guess, but I’m pretty boring,” he nonchalantly smiled, hands almost digging around to find the fan that he had stashed away in his small handbag. The heat from his embarrassed cheeks was enough to cause him to break out in a beading of sweat on his temple. 

Aggressively he fanned his face while Antonio just seemed oblivious to the carrier’s obvious discomfort. “It’s hot out here today, American summers are brutal, but in Barcelona it’s like a desert.” 

His speech was almost like a spell, Lovino couldn’t help but melt with foreign accent that hung off his every sentence. It almost shocked him at how gooey he’d gotten around just one guy that suited his fancy, all the others were too pushy, but Antonio was pushy in all the right ways. 

It bothered him on how just one man could invoke such a passionate blush in his usual calm person, “why not we take a seat and talk, no use in standing around and cramping our legs.” 

Lovino jumped at the proposition, eagerly taking the other to the fountain located in the middle of the garden. Here it was a lot more quieter than up front by the house, it put the carrier’s wandering brain to rest. The rim of the fountain had a soft gleam of water from the extravagant display that pushed out of the poor Cherub’s mouth. Lovino took a seat on a drier spot, Antonio have no care and just sitting down on a puddle. 

“Beautiful isn’t it,” he remarked with a smile, the Spaniard leaned forward towards the basin of water to pluck a floating water lily between his fingers. 

“That’s a water lily,” Lovino couldn’t help but announce, “a Nymphaeaceae.” A blush ripped across Lovino’s cheek, oh Antonio must of thought he was some kind of weirdo, “you wouldn’t know what that is anyways, so it doesn’t matter,” he quickly added turning his nose in high distaste. 

Instead of being hurt by the insult, the other laughed, looking at the droopy lily currently sopping into his slacks, “a nympha what a hazy? Where’d you learn that?” 

“A book!” Lovino bit back hotly, Antonio seemingly ignorant by the hot tone, he just laughed looking more interesting in the soft petals. 

It came in slow motion as the interesting man shook off some of the water and then proceeded to weave the stem through Lovino’s hair, letting it rest against the rim of his ear. The flower was still thoroughly wet, causing water to drip on the lap of his pants and soak up his hair, but it didn’t stop the blush that had spread like a wildfire across his cheeks. 

“There,” Antonio said in a matter-a-fact tone, shaking the rest of the water off his hands, “a flower for a beautiful boy.” 

“So straightforward,” Lovino muttered fanning himself, looking anywhere else but those sparkling eyes. 

They continued for another hour of just chatting about useless things. Antonio didn’t have much of a clue about flowers and seemed a bit scared of a field mouse than a man should truly act, but Lovino found it endearing.

“It won’t hurt you, come on,” Lovino trapped the small mouse between his hand, before scooping it up and presenting it to the man, who looked as pale as flour. 

He stuttered out a laugh and held up two hands, “you can keep it! I don’t want it!” 

Shoving the thing closer to the Spaniards face, he snickered behind the veil of disinterest that he put forward. Antonio couldn’t help just melt in the look. 

“Lovino!” They two were suddenly burst out of the facade as standing at the path of the fountain was a rather amused woman that Antonio couldn’t put a finger on where he recognized her from, but Lovino sure did as he immediately let the mouse go. 

“Mother!” He hissed back, the playful, boyish charm that Antonio got just a sweet taste had vanished before him like it was never there to begin with. “Why aren’t you with Grandma.” 

Finally, a piece fit in Antonio puzzle as Lovino sat up and got close to woman. It’s his mom, he should of known. They looked so much alike it was as if they were twins, “I didn’t see you wandering around the garden and Feliciano told me you were with a boy. You know I’m allowed to take little breaks from Grandma, you should see her sometime soon too, she’s been asking about her baby dove. Though who is this boy?” She practically sang. 

“It’s not like that,” Lovino face broke out in a patchy blush, “I was just keeping him company, that’s all. I’m not interested in getting married.”

“Oh sure, and I’m the Archduchess of Germany,” Mother muttered, receiving a displeased snort from Lovino.

Turning back to the man who still made his cheeks grow warm, he found himself in a situation. Should he let himself be infatuated with some man, or let himself fall behind on his work in his own home. 

Mother surely couldn’t do her work forever and it will be Lovino to take over the house when Grandma was to pass and he couldn’t let some brainless boy distract him. “I have things to make sure gets done tonight,” he said aloud, pausing his dramatic exit to turn back to Antonio who seemed to have deflated, “dinner is at six sharp, do not be late or I’ll take your chair from the table.”

It was a promise that would lay empty, Antonio gave him a warm smile, standing up from the basin of the fountain to collect other’s hands in his own. “I shall never be late if you’re hosting,” there was the smile that caused Lovino’s legs to waver and a small squeak had left his throat when Antonio laid a kiss to the soft digits between his calloused palm. 

“I best you not if you want to win his heart,” mother made her presence in her loving tone, “he’ll really take that seat and place you with a commoner.” 

With a strike of confidence, Lovino ripped his hand from the other and started his walk towards the house, cursing himself on letting a boy cloud his vision. 

Antonio however basked in the dust, and by God he sure did like to watch the young carrier walk away. 

—————————— ——————————-

Gently taking the glass from the table, Lovino brought it up to his lips, taking a long sip of water, feeling the ice cold beverage weave down his throat and cool his hot face. Dinner was becoming a disaster in the guests that arrived and it was making him kick himself for not being so vigilant about the seating. 

Ludwig and Feliciano were face to face at the dining room table and if looks could kill, those two would have been rotting corpses by now. The tension had spread throughout the hall, every aristocrat that had been invited were too afraid to speak as the two faced off with only looks. 

Both were warned beforehand to not talk to each other, but nobody said glaring was off the list. “Lovino,” the silence broke with Gilbert having a smart smile etched across his face, “can you pass me the butter, please?” 

The light green eyes darted to the butter resting right beside his silverware. Lovino made eye contact with his brother, quickly, a silent conversation of not to start something.

“Of course,” his voice was honey sweet as he reached for the butter dish, before it was ripped out of his direction. 

Lovino has frozen in the air as he looked up to see Antonio handing the dish to Gilbert across from him with a sickly sweet smile, “here you go Gil, don’t worry Lovino I got it,” he responded in a generous tone shaking the dish around in front of the stunned man. 

“Thanks, though I did ask for the lovely Carrier Vargas to give it to me,” Gilbert snatched it out of the other hand, Antonio leaning back in his chair to slyly put his arm behind Lovino’s chair. 

In instant reaction, Lovino stomped down on the Spaniard’s foot, listening to him yelp retracting his arm to grip at his throbbing foot. Feliciano smiles behind his cup, trying to hold in his best laughter. 

“I have hands for a reason,” he remarked at the man, “don’t do my job for me.” 

“Ahaha,” Antonio laugh was bitter as he leaned to the touch the other, Lovino dodging the hand, giving a warning glare, “I’m sorry,” he smiled bashfully, an embarrassed flush spreading across his tan cheeks, “I’ll try better.” 

Turning his nose away in disgust, Lovino turned back to his cooling dinner, his appetite completely fell to the wayside from the anxiety. He ate silently, sparring a few glances to Antonio who seemed a bit more sheepish than he meant to, and to Feliciano who eyes never left Ludwig’s. 

When dinner was finally announced over, it was a godsend. Lovino had thanked his lucky stars that everyone got through alive. 

“I wish to speak to you before you head in for tonight, Toni,” Lovino’s keen ears picked up as he collected the plates by the table. Gilbert had moved to Antonio the minute dinner ended, his face serious as death. 

However something was just bothering Lovino at the way they were sizing each other up. Didn’t Antonio tell him that they were close friends, then why were they acting so hostile. Feliciano’s whereabouts were suddenly dropped to the wayside as Lovino ditched his plates in awaiting maid’s arms to silently follow the two. 

The old housekeeper of the house once told him, ‘don’t meddle in things that don’t concern you.’ But something about this situation made him just know it was about him. The two friends made their way to the back of the house, disappearing out the French doors to the garden, Lovino just catching the door slightly with his foot, before hiding behind the side of the wall. He knew that all these doors were locked while dinner went on in the reception hall, so if they wanted to get back in Lovino had to hold the door and listen. 

With the mask of night, he must of looked like some kind of spy. Hunched over by the side wall, dressed in his best slacks and vest. It was as if he was playing the adventurous characters he read about. 

“So, you’re perusing Lovino Vargas,” was the first thing Gilbert said, Lovino’s heart dropping into his stomach. 

Antonio was quiet, an exasperated sigh leaving his lungs, “what's it to you if I want to pursue a single carrier. Aren’t these parties made for just that reason.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Gilbert responded hotly, “but you’re half his age and he barely even likes you. Piss off to some other carrier, there are thousands.” 

“What does my age have to do with any of this?” Antonio asked, his voice laced with confusion, “why are getting so hot about this, you never cared about who I fancied before. I bet if I asked Lovino he wouldn’t even know who you are!” 

“Keep your voice down!” Gilbert hushed the other, from just a sliver of the door opening, Lovino could see that Gilbert cornered Antonio. All alarms in his head told him to save the poor man, but he held himself back. “You know, my dad wants me and my brother to marry into this family, our estate needs the Vargas money, badly!” 

“Then go for Feliciano, because I’m not letting you manipulate Lovino like this,” Lovino didn’t know whether to be flattered or angry about the way they spoke about Feliciano, but he decided to be more flattered instead. 

Gilbert stepped back finally, letting out a frustrated groan, running his veiny hand through his hair, “I can’t! That’s what I planned to do, but Ludwig ruined any chance to get to Feliciano. They are at each other’s literal throats.” 

“Not my fault, come on man,” Antonio took a step forward to put a hand on the German’s back, “I know your just stressed right now, but don’t listen to your dad. You’re starting to sound like him with all this money talk.” 

The other chuckled, “shut your flap, Toni I just want what’s best for my family. Ludwig deserves to go to university, and the only way is to find some funds.” 

“I can help-“ 

“I cannot ask for any more money from your family,” Gilbert shut him down quickly, “just leave Lovino to me, you can talk to him, but stop making your intentions so obvious.” 

“Sadly I cannot promise such a thing,” Antonio took a step back, “Something is different about him, he makes me want to settle down and have six kids and dogs, and come home to him baking me sweets.”

As the Spaniard went on shaping this image of a generic home life, Lovino furrowed his eyebrows at just the thought. Six kids, over his dead body, maybe one, but it was pushing it. He wanted to explore, wanted to sail one day and visit foreign land like his dad use to. Antonio was attractive and his personality was far too hopeful to begin with, but if he thought that Lovino would be his homemaker, it would be a long night.

Standing from the door, he took one last look at the two, their words had come to halt as they suddenly were hyper aware of who had been listening in. 

“Lovino!” Antonio was first to speak his face in horror. The carrier took the French door, closing it from the two and heading off down the hallway, ignoring the two as they banged against the door. 

Too bad his brainless suitors didn’t know what a key was. 

Across the house, Feliciano was getting ready for bed. The night had come to a complex close, his whole body feeling rigid from how tense he was at dinner. All night he was staring at that stupid German, wondering to himself why couldn’t the boy just leave. 

They planned to stay at the mansion, as did many aristocrats had, offering his grandma money in return for their stay, Ludwig’s family had been one of those. Though he should leave at this point, a whole month at the matchmaking gala and he already offended the family, it was awful at this point. 

Taking a seat at the vanity, he discarded his extravagant diamond necklaces, laying them down against the wood, watching as it sparkled in the light. Since dinner wasn’t as formal, he was wearing a nice pair of slacks and a soft sky blue vest that he took off with the utmost care, laying them on the chair. 

When he was only dressed in his undergarments, a loose pair of canvas night shirt that reached his shins, he received a knock at the door, one less hesitant from the usual guard or relative. 

Rising from his position at the vanity, Feliciano opened the door to find Ludwig, his most prominent features accented by the candle he held in his hand. “What are you doing here?” Feliciano asked after a moment of silence, trying to find some way to why the young bachelor showed up at his room. 

“Don’t sound so threatened, I’m not going to do anything to you,” Ludwig’s voice was exasperated, “I was wondering if you saw where Gilbert was, it’s almost midnight and he hasn’t returned to our bedroom.” 

“How should I know?” Feliciano raised his voice putting a hand to his chest in confusion. 

The blond set down the candle down on the dresser beside the door, “aren’t you like the keeper of the house, that what my father said, he said the oldest Vargas is the keeper of your house!” 

“I’m not the oldest! That’s Lovino!” Feliciano bit back, before he could go on, finger raised to point straight into the German’s chest there was a loud bang from the balcony. 

The two couldn’t whip their heads faster as they made their way across the hallway and to the door. When Ludwig opened the door, he dodged a small pebble that had been thrown from below. 

Heading towards the railing, Feliciano hung back, his hands gripping tightly to the door frame as the blond man took a peek from above. “Gilbert?” He said in surprise, Feliciano stepping out from the doorway to also look, seeing Gilbert and Antonio still in their evening suits. 

“What are you doing down in the garden! It’s almost midnight!” Feliciano was quick to scold the two, rubbing against his arm. The summers may be warm when the sun was high in the sky, but when nighttime falls it was as cold as a fall afternoon. 

Ludwig took a glance at the other, his own subconscious fighting him to display just an ounce of care for the smaller. They may have been holding different levels of discomfort for the other, but still, his mother had taught him before her untimely death how to be a gentleman. 

Discarding his robe, he let it fall heavily against Feliciano’s shoulder, watching as he flinched from the sudden warmth and weight. Looking up he glared fruitlessly, but slipped his arms in the coat. It was too big for his hands to reach the bottom of the sleeves, though it did keep his hands warm. 

“Cover up or you’ll look indecent for the suitors,” he found his voice, trying his best to sound more reprimanding than concerned for the other’s image. 

Feliciano rolled his eyes to the warning, “it’s too late to fight with you right now. Now why are you boys down there,” he directed his question to the two waving their arms frantically to get their attention. 

Gilbert pointed an angry finger at the younger Vargas, “it was your brother that locked us outside!” 

“He must of been doing his rounds and saw that the door was open and closed it,” Antonio was quick to snap at his friend. 

“I looked him in the eyes and watched him shut the damn door!” 

“Watch your profanities, there is a Carrier out here!” Ludwig shouted back to his brother. Feliciano couldn’t help but feel a swell of something protective in him as Gilbert quickly shot his brother out of the park in his rage. 

The two brothers seemed to be heated with how to treat a Carrier, it was almost like walking in on an argument that hadn’t ended, “everyone just shush!” Feliciano hissed, “people are sleeping and you two are causing such a ruckus! Let me let you two in and next time you wish for a late night walk bring a key!” 

Hotly, he exited, feeling the robe swish around him like an adventurous cape. Ludwig stayed at the railing, just watching as he left, rather than following him to let the other in. When the doors shut, Feliciano touched a hand to his cheek, feeling the heat that was slowly rising up. 

Ludwig’s scent had been ingrained in the soft velvet robe, almost a wintery cedar smell to it with just a touch of campfire. It made Feliciano reminisce for the winter even though he was more of a fan of summer. 

His brain was quick to remind him of the situation, subconsciously scolded himself for getting caught up in Ludwig, of all people, scent. 

What was wrong with his brain?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bonnefoy finally arrive at the manor, Lovino trying his best to be the best host, though he always did get lost in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? World building in chapter 3? More likely than you think. I focused this chapter more on Spamano for a little shake up. Also I jumbled all the endgame couples for this party so I can make some jealously, hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Leave a review!

The Frots Mansion was a beautiful work of time. The inside was decorated with hand painted plates and brass statues from all over the world. It was like a time capsule of what Widowed Frots did when she was younger; more fitter. 

Standing in the doorway of his grandmother’s room, Lovino couldn’t help but feel his heart strings play. Since the untimely death of his grandfather, Widowed Frots found herself following his same path with now becoming bedridden this past month.

For this mansion to be still in the shape that it is, there was no other person to thank but the loyal houseworkers who continued their schedule even as their mistress was unable to check every room. 

The housekeeper, or just the head maid was the one to thank for this work to keep going. She was an elderly woman by the name of Miss Webster . She had been by the side of Grandmother since Mama was just a little baby. They were close friends despite the hierarchy that divided the rich from the lower class of servants. 

“Now, don’t linger in the doorway like some sort of prowler, come in Lovino,” Miss Webster voice was smooth, a Scottish accent hanging off her words as she sat beside grandmother. The portly woman gave him a warm smile, Grandmother turning her head on the pillow to give her best smile and ushered the other to come in. 

“Now Mary,” Grandmother laughed quietly, “Lovino, good morning dear.” 

“Good Morning, Grandmama,” he curtsied at the door, “and good morning to you Miss Webster.” 

Entering the room, it certainly didn’t feel like the Lady of the house was bedridden. It was like every other room, decorated with beautiful brass and lovely pictures hung on every wall. He took the quick walk to Grandmother’s poster bed, taking a seat on the mattress and collecting her frail hands in his own. 

“How’s my little grandson doing, everyday you look even more like Romeo,” lifting her free hand she gave him a soft pat on his round cheek, “Now, I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” she added more to herself with a slight snicker of laughter. 

Romeo, though had swept his Mum off her feet, he was still a man of question to the Frot family. Though since the birth of Lovino and his brother, they seemed to accept him in staying around, but there was a certain edge that one day he was just going to pack up and leave. 

Maybe it was Grandmother old age twisting her mind, because Father wouldn’t leave their mother’s side if you paid him. Though, there was always a but to add on. 

Shyly, Lovino took a strand of brown hair and tucked it behind his ear, “thank you, I hope you and Miss Webster have been busy up here. The party surely has been driving Mum and up the wall.” 

“Oh don’t get me started about that party,” She huffed, Miss Webster hiding her laughter behind her book she was reading, “all my daughter has been talking about is that party and your little brother,” in a chastising voice, she narrowed her eyes at him, “you best be watching him, he and that Beilschmidt boy reminds me of your grandfather and I.” 

“You and grandpa?” Lovino egged on. His grandfather would only be described as an overzealous man. He was almost a jack of all trades, running a pharmacy downtown. He passed away when Lovino was five, so their relationship was almost vague to put sadly. 

He tried to think of Grandpa, a strong man with a whimsical smile. He was much different than Grandpa Vargas, the boisterous Italian man who came for big holidays. Grandpa Frot was a gentle man with a big heart, or that’s what grandma said. 

The frail woman grew quiet, almost reminiscing by herself. Heavy eyes closed and her lips quirked up in a sorta maniacal grin. “Ah yes, me and your grandfather. We despised each other, always bickering with each other and messing around. That was until I saw him walking around with another lady, bickering with her,” she bit back a laugh, “oh I hollered at him for days, about this dumb lady. He asked what do you care about it, you’re not my girlfriend or anything!”

Grandma took a breath, her eyes moving like she was reading a fairytale book as she reminisced of old memories, “I told him I didn’t want to see him with anyone else and then that was that. We were married in the fall. I think Feliciano just found himself a man that won’t coddle him like the rest do.” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Lovino couldn’t help, but burst in, “I’m not rooting for this Beilschmidt guy, I was snooping around last night and I heard the older one talking about marrying into our family for money.” 

Hearing that, the old woman took a seat back, her old eyes closing gently to think, “who did he tell that to?” She asked after a few seconds of silence. 

Lips going into a tight line, Lovino huffed, “he was telling off a suitor that fancied me, because Feliciano is furious with their family, I'm the only candidate left for him.” 

“Oh really...” she hummed, sitting up a little bit so her hard brown eyes could settle on Lovino, “so tell me more about this suitor that fancies you.” 

“Grandma,” he huffed at the playful look in her eyes, “it’s a nobody, he thinks I’m going to be his housewife to some palace. Plus this isn’t the first man I chased off, nothing I can’t handle.” 

“A housewife?” Grandma repeated in a similar tone, “but haven’t you always wanted to be one? You love caring for this house.” 

“But this is my house,” Lovino laughed like it was the biggest joke and she couldn’t see that, “you’re the one who is passing it down to me, I’ve been caring for this house before I was even presented. It’s my duty as a Carrier.” 

Lovino finished his argument with all the gusto he could manage, though all he got from his audience was a cold look, “what,” he snapped, “if you got something to say, tell me.” 

Miss. Webster held up her hands in mock surrender while Grandma flourished in laughter, patting Lovino on the head like he was just a little kid again. “My dove, why are you so stubborn, I know you just want to do your duty, though it doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in a little you time.” 

“I do indulge in self care!” Lovino bit back hotly, “I just don’t want some stupid man to boss me around and treat me like a porcelain doll. Antonio is just like every guy, he may be attractive, and funny, and really, really sweet,” he paused his nose scrunching up at his heart taking over his brain, “but-“ 

“But?” Grandma chimed in. 

“But,” Lovino bristled back, “he still tried to treat me like one! I’m so much more than just a plain old housewife.” 

His words fell into a hush from hearing his voice echoed in the large room. It was extremely uncouth to shout like that, especially indoors. Lovino’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he stood up from the bed. 

“Now don’t run off,” Grandmama shook her head, a soft smile gracing her thin, chapped lips, “I don’t think anyone can call you plain. I’d say maybe fiery, intelligent, devoted, and if anyone would call you plain you have all right to hit them as hard as you can.” 

A warm smile crept on Lovino’s face, Grandmama could always hype him up when he’s having a bad day, “Antonio is attractive, but until he sees I’m more than just a wife, I’ll have to cast him aside.” 

“Good.” She agreed. Lovino couldn’t help but see where he got his personality from. The strong woman she put forth really rubbed off on him. 

Before Lovino could dwell any longer at the subject at hand, the small bell located conveniently by the wall began its jingle frantically before stopping abruptly. “The Bonnefoy must be here,” Miss Webster announced setting her book by the bed. 

“Oh the Bonnefoy family,” Grandmama laid down on the bed, “please greet them for me Lovino, I suddenly feel to ill to get up,” he didn’t miss the way she winked at him and settled down with a smug smile. 

“I can’t do your work forever, Grandmama,” Lovino shook his head at her, “but I’ll do as you say.” 

“Good boy,” she called resting her tired eyes. Letting Miss Webster go first, he manually closed the door, giving pointed looks to the guards. It was a never spoken rule, but if Grandma health were to decline any more Lovino was the first to know. 

All the guards, though sadden at the thought of losing the lady of the house, turned to the new carrier of the house. He gave them a nod, before going after Miss Webster who was striding with a purpose. 

He followed her down the brightly lit hallway, he couldn’t help but think about what he was going to do with the house when Grandmama handed it to him. It was already a beautiful Tudor, built way before his time, but still held up in it’s glory. 

There was the gorgeous ballroom that wowed guests and a parlor room filled to the brim with every conversational piece known to man. Though, if he could have one thing, he’d replace all the gaslights with those fancy new electric lights that seemed much easier to take care of. 

He couldn’t wait to wow the Bonnefoys with the beauty of the house. There was this tall tale stereotype that European guests were always a bit more huffy than the usual guest. Though, not letting stereotype get to his head, he allowed Miss Webster to open the front door as Lovino stood in the middle of the foyer with a warm and hopefully welcoming smile. 

Mr. Bonnefoy was exactly how Mother described him. He was a tall man with a head of luscious blond locks that seemed so up to care it was as if he had the hair of a woman. He was dressed in the utmost fashion, fancy buttons and a silk waistcoat. The cane in his right hand was encrusted with beautiful jewels that danced in the candle light. 

Lovino felt so small in the man’s presence, he seemed to take up an entire room with just his ego. Taking the brim of his long top hat, the flamboyant man bent regally at the waist before bouncing up with a warm smile, “ah Lovino Vargas, your mother description of you never could prepare me to seeing you in person.” 

His voice was lavishly smooth, like a cat just waking up from an afternoon nap to lap up a dish of milk. He moved effortlessly across the marbled flooring, to collect Lovino’s left hand in his own smooth ones and press a kiss to his knuckles, “it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he smiled gently. 

“Francis, stop that,” a voice came across, saving the boy from any sort of shame that was creeping up his cheeks. A firm hand came thumping down on Francis’s head making him flinch back to reveal a well dress carrier. 

Age had simply done him well, with soft lines across his cheeks and splatter of honey brown freckles across his cheeks and nose. His pale blonde hair was styled in a spikier fashion, probably done with some kind of fancy pomade Lovino’s Brain supplied. Though it still held a messy tousle that seemed odd for how much wealth they probably had. 

His dress was elegant, something that he could only be seen worn by models walking down a Parisian runway . It was green, made with what looked to be silk, with a crinolette giving his bustle a little extra help. They were very big in Europe, though Lovino couldn’t help but compare the dress to a beetle from its round shape it created. 

“I’m Carrier Arthur Bonnefoy,” he greeted bluntly offering Lovino a hand. They shook like it was a business meeting, a competition between the two to assert some kind of dominance. 

The cogs in his brain worked quickly to establish some kind of relationship with the European Carrier, his eyes, though were narrowed, were a warm emerald, that carried a fair amount of wisdom for being so young. 

From mother, he knew Arthur was a little older than him, but younger than her. Francis Bonnefoy was known to be a stickler for a partner, not wanting any children for it would mess with his work. Though his plan was surely cut when he met the young English carrier. However, what was confusing and surely the talk of every gossip group, is no one knew their story. It was if the Brit just appeared in thin air. 

Some people speculated that Arthur was a mistress that the Frenchman got pregnant and they were forced to wed to keep their image. Though, from the entrance Francis gave Lovino, he could see it. Others just say is Francis was a private man, and that was also true. His work was always a mystery, he never allowed any press to ever interview his process. He’d just appear with a line and a time frame that told him how long he worked. 

“Brother Francis!” A Voice called from the steps, Lovino and Arthur looking up to watch as Feliciano came bumbling down the steps like a blushing bride in his casual yellow dress. Francis collected the boy in a tight hug, kissing his right cheek and then his left as if they were old friends. 

In which they were, Lovino had to remind himself in his head. Whenever mother went overseas to commission dresses, it was always Feliciano to come with her. Lovino tended to stay behind with father, in his words was to watch the house, but he wasn’t a big fan of boats, they always tended to make him sick. 

“Look at you, what are you wearing,” Francis pinched at the dress with utmost disgust, “I made this last season!” 

Feliciano just laughed, tucking his auburn hair behind his ear in a sheepish fashion, “but I love this dress, it’s so comfortable! I promise I’ll dress in something much more elegant of yours for dinner.” 

“No, no!” Francis shot down with a wave of the hand, “I’ll make you a new dress for dinner, since you’ve only been wearing this garbage. Look at your brother, look at what he’s wearing!” 

Self consciously looking down, Lovino couldn’t see what was wrong with his perfectly pressed dress pants and tight waist coat. It was a typical piece of carrier fashion, a perfect medium of masculine and feminine that constantly blended into their lives. It was confusing as it, being a mixture of both, why couldn’t Lovino just wear what those damn men all wore, why did he get a special dress. 

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” He huffed dusting off nonexistent dust from his shoulder. Even though mother said never bring those kind of politics up, it still jostled an unfamiliar feeling of scruntization from someone who never had to experience his feelings. It made him want to stomp so hard on that church bell of a man.

“I think what you’re wearing is fine,” Arthur cut off the next thing Francis was about to say, “I adore your top, don’t listen to my husband he cares more about taking the stage all the time than something casual.” 

A swell of happiness filled Lovino’s chest from the compliment. Surely, his high necked dress top with a smooth waist coat wasn’t as fancy as what the wife of a fashion designer would see, but the compliment sat comfortably. Turning to Feliciano, he could see he was again lost in thought, peeking out one of the windows, “oh! Is that Alfred and Matthew!” He called directing all conversation to him. 

“I don’t know what’s taking them so long,” Carrier Bonnefoy glanced down at his watch briefly. 

The older man just simply chuckled, “Alfred must be stuck in the carriage door again. I’m sure he’ll ruin that dress by the end of the week.” 

With a pointed glare, Arthur glanced at the watch again, “Excuse me, let me go see what’s taking them so long,” with a huff the carrier left, but not before returning with his hand gripped around a young one’s ear. 

Following behind him was a more smiley boy, he wore a gentle lilac dress that seemed to blow in the gentle summer wind. The boy being gripped by the ear was wearing a dark blue dress, similar in fashion as his brother. “Introduce yourself to the Vargas Carriers,” before Arthur let go he seemed to glower at the young one in the blue dress, “nicely,” he spat venomously. 

“I got it mum, stop embarrassing me,” the boy bit back hotly, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I’m Alfred Bonnefoy,” he looked over at Arthur who egged him on with a simple hand gesture, “I’m a newly pronounced carrier,” he said in an almost sad tone. 

“And I’m Matthew,” the lilac boy jumped in, “its pleasure to meet you two, I cannot wait to show you some of my dress designs! We will be good friends!” 

“Absolutely!” Feliciano smiled excitedly, clapping his hands together, “I’m Feliciano and this is my older brother Lovino. If you need to know anything about the house, my brother would love to help you.” 

“And if you need a servant, Mrs. Webster, my grandmother’s house keeper will show you to the bells in the room. Don't be afraid to bug them, they don’t do as much work as most servants do,” Lovino jumped in, folding his hands by his sternum in a casual fashion. “Shall I show you to your room? Mrs. Webster call a few hallboys to help the Bonnefoy with the luggage.” 

She nodded and disappeared with a word, the young boy with the blue dress, Alfred was it, seemed to stare at him in this kind of awe. Waving his hand for the family to follow he descended up the stairs, listening to their shoes click after him. When he got to the top of the steps, he smiled waiting patiently for everyone to get to his level. 

With a careful eye, he watched as Arthur was helped up the steps by Francis holding him tightly by the arm. A question raised in his head from the gesture, why was the other leaning so heavily from going up a simple flight of stairs, but he pushed it down for the act of being kind to his guests. 

As he made his way towards the large door, the man at the door stomped his cane against the ground to alert the men on the other side to open the doors. With a flourish it was opened on the other side pushing a gust of wind from the heavy doors. It was the little things Lovino lavished in, and one of those was walking through those doors, feeling like an absolute God. 

It was a short walk through the hall, showing the Bonnefoy couple to their room and then to the twins. 

Lovino showed the two to the lavish room, Francis thanking him generously with compliments while Arthur just gave a pointed look to Alfred before disappearing without a word. ‘He is limping’, Lovino finally realized after a minute of his generic scrutinizing glares, it was barely subtle, but he could notice it if he focused hard enough. 

Everything in his brain tried to put in a reasonable reason for the young man to be limping, but it was Francis who took the other’s arm and pressed a kiss into his hair. The doorman opened the door for them and as quickly as the thought entered, it left without a trace. 

It was only them in the hallway after that, the early morning sun shining in from the windows creating long cut outs of the glass against the red carpets. Feliciano was making idle, but boring chat about the weather to Matthew. 

They were from France, a far away trip from where they were now, but it didn’t seem to bother them. Alfred just seemed to be glowering and surely he was going to get wrinkles from how fiercely he was doing it. 

Both of them had long, silky blond hair. Nobody could say they weren’t the Bonnefoy’s children because they were practically duplicates of the couple. Matthew hair was long, kept very silky just like Mr. Bonnefoy while Alfred’s was around the same length, but tied back with a royal blue ribbon to match his dress. 

Like Arthur, his hair didn’t look as healthy as Francis nor his brother, with his awkwardly cut strands, but they just seemed to pull it off. 

Though, Lovino did pride himself in being an utmost perfect host so he kept his comments to himself. It wasn’t his job to judge the two, they were all here for the same reason and someone who played the same game.

“Who’s room are those?” Alfred broke the silence and Lovino’s fast pace inner monologue, by pointing to the other doors. They had bustling maids flooding out of them with old sheets in their arms. 

Lovino turned to the pointed finger, already seeing Feliciano’s face scrunch up, “that is the Archduke of Germany’s Sons Room, Carrier Alfred,” Lovino responded with a gentle smile, though not missing the boy’s grimace from the title, “surely you will meet the brothers at the garden party schedule this afternoon.” 

“For an Archduke’s kins, they are extremely useless,” Feliciano gossiped with a gloved hand hiding his lips from Lovino. 

Matthew just giggled at the gossip, thin lips pulling into a friendly smirk, “and the room there,” he then asked like it was a game of who was behind each door. 

“Duke Antonio Of Fernandez, he’s the prime minister of Spain’s son. Sadly the prime minister couldn’t join us for the banquet, but his mother is taking over his duty.” Lovino repeated exactly what his mom told him the day that damn Spaniard arrived to the countryside manor. 

A sharp eye he kept on the brothers, dare to test any of them to glean a look towards the influential Spaniard. Though, he made it clear that he was not going to be a suitor of Antonio, he still didn’t want to see any of them going after him. 

Feliciano held his gossip with a catlike grin as he turned to Alfred to ask what was behind the last door. He simply raised an eyebrow, never asking but the question held unasked to Lovino. 

“It’s a Russian Noble, his father is a friend of my father, who had painted his foyer long before I was born. The trip is long to our quaint house, so we can only hope to see Lord Ivan in days to come.” He ended, rolling his eyes at the childish games. 

“Lord Ivan, he sounds fancy,” Matthew gushed, “as does Duke Antonio, oh I cannot wait to meet these men.” 

“And what, get married?” Alfred sneered in a chastising tone, “it’s useless, a trap, degrading!” 

“Degrading?” Lovino asked. 

“Degrading.” He repeated like it was a true fact among every noble, “I don’t want a husband, nor do I need one. Mother may want to sell me off like a bag of potatoes, but what about my feelings.” 

“We’re here for a reason Alfred, we aren’t being sold off,” Matthew tone was gentle as he probed at the other’s arm for some kind of comfort. 

In this action, Alfred pushed him off with much disdain, “I cannot take any more of this useless gossip, if you would be so kind,” he directed to Lovino, “take me to my room and away from my prattling brother.” 

The sibling rivalry seemed so thick in the air, Matthew staring at him with utmost anger as a young Carrier could show without it being considered improper. “Ah,” Lovino cleared his throat, “right this way Carrier Alfred.” 

The doorsman, who had listening the whole time, gave Lovino a silent look of conversation before opening the door to the guest room. “I’ll tell you later, George,” he whispered with a smirk which sated the older man with his questions. 

“Relationships with your servants, Carrier Vargas you are what my mother’s gossip group whispers about,” Alfred’s voice was prim as he inspected the bed with careful fingers, “how do you run this house with such.... definability.” 

Alfred seemed to struggle with the words he was looking for, Lovino almost forgetting that the boy’s first language wasn’t English. He was what every carrier was brought up to be fluent in many languages, able to read and write, if Alfred wasn’t so cold he’d be a bachelor’s dream. 

The question had Lovino paused, almost afraid his movements would stop his thought process, “Carrier Alfred, I must beg your pardon? I cannot tell if that was a compliment or an insult.” 

“Take it as you wish,” he sneered, “can you just do my favour, a Carrier to another Carrier.” 

Lovino couldn’t help but smile, Alfred show of vulnerability may of been a way to get to his heart. They could be friends, maybe. “I’m at your disposal.” 

“You sound as if you’re a maid,” Alfred laughed behind his gloved hand, “I actually wish for you to help me with my corset, my mother always makes it so tight and I can barely breath.” 

With a soft hand, he put it against his stomach. Corsets were much different than they were in America and especially in France. Lovino didn’t wear his as frequently as his mother pestered him to, but he was a busy young man. He had work to do and the corset always got in his way. 

Taking a look at Alfred he could establish quickly that the corset he was wearing was more devilish than the ones he had stashed away. “Yes of course, let me take a look.” 

It seemed so intimate as Alfred discarded the shawl around his neck and turned towards the bed post to show his back. From first look he couldn’t even imagine the pain from how tight the corset was. “Oh goodness, I-“ Lovino was at a loss of words, as he took the top bow and began to loosen it. 

“It’s really tight,” Alfred let out a held in breath, his hands grasping at the post to keep himself from falling in relief, “I never got trained on the corset until a few months ago. My doctor thought I was just a male.” 

From the look, he’d probably wouldn’t of guessed Alfred to be a Carrier. They were always brought up early, so parents had them docked rather early to stunt growth. It was common practice, a terrible one at that, but it was societies practice. 

A male carrier that was castrated early became more feminine, puberty seemingly never happening. Their flat chests became more enlarged in age and barely any hair grows in large amounts unless it’s the scrotum. The procedure is scarring, something Lovino thanks heaven everyday for himself being so young he can’t remember it. 

“My mum, wants me to the perfect suitor, and he isn’t doing it for himself, he wants me to have a good future,” his voice was soft as his grip tightened on the frame, “I have to push through the waist training to be the ideal Carrier.” 

At a loss for words, Lovino simply tied the corset. Without the pressure, Alfred’s waist was simply just not the same. “Don’t fret to hard on the waist training, not all men are looking for the perfect carrier,” Lovino found himself saying with the roll of his eyes, “if they are looking for mister or misses perfect their gonna pass up on a really great guy, like yourself.” 

The words were uplifting, something maybe he should be taking his own advice, though in a different situation. Antonio was flawed, yes, but wasn’t every human being. “That’s really sweet of you to say,” Alfred lips quirked into a smile, “I think we’re going to be great friends Lovino.” 

“And to you, Alfred. Now let’s wash up, the garden party waits for no one and we want to make a good impression, right?” 

Taking off the gloves, Alfred wiped away a stray tear that had slowly began sliding down his cheek. He barely even noticed he was crying until the other had pointed it out. “Yes, you must introduce me.” 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“The game is simple,” Feliciano’s voice was light as he seemed to dance between the group of men, a smile playing on his lips, “You put your name in your hat, we’ll pick your name and you’ll be our horse for the race. If you win, there might be a pretty prize for you!” 

“Over my dead body,” Alfred muttered crossing his legs in his seat. 

“Now don’t be a party pooper,” Lovino laughed touching the other’s hand lightly. 

Though this was evening garden party, all the ladies and carriers dressed in their afternoon or walking gowns. It hadn’t rained this morning, however Lovino wasn’t going to get a new dinner gown all muddy at a petty garden party. 

His dress was a quaint high neck with a diagonal fabric down the chest of a lovely foreign pattern. It was colored a dark burgundy, though was decorated with swirls of gold. On his head he wore a large hat to cover his face from the sun. It was decorated with many feathers and beautiful roses. 

Alfred, who sat beside him for afternoon tea was wearing a low neck dress with a blue waist coat and form fitting green skirt. He was bored as it is, looking at his nails or twirling at his tan parasol. Lovino did introduce him to every bachelor, even encouraged him to sit and play the dumb game Feliciano had put together, he just didn’t seem too into it. 

The men in front of them were ditching their heavy formal jackets for just their nice shirts. Lovino couldn’t take his eyes off Antonio’s chest, from the low V cut of his undershirt was showing way too much tan skin that had him all hot and bothered at the collar. 

“I’ll be stealing this!” Feliciano giggled swiping the hat off of an unnamed suitors head and the bachelors put their names in the hat. 

When all the names got in the hat, Feliciano began passing out the names to the Carriers and Ladies sat watching. Alfred turned up his nose, but with an encouraging elbow to the side from Lovino he pulled out a name. 

“Duke Antonio,” Alfred muttered the name. 

Jealousy hit Lovino like a hot rod, his face heating up and lips quirked in a forced smile. Digging around in the hat he pulled a name. 

“Lord Hebert,” he hissed like the name was the ugliest thing he ever heard. The man he chose deflated like a balloon at his cold tone. 

Matthew was next to pick, “Duke Ludwig,” he smiled, fanning himself quickly at the sight of the young man. The blond seemed unfazed by the game, almost bored to be forced in such a childish way. 

Feliciano passed out the other names until he got to his own, “Ah, I got Mister Gilbert,” he grinned catlike, “don’t let me down, I have a pretty hefty bet on you.” 

“You should bet even higher,” the cocky man grinned sending Feliciano a smile of knives. Those Beilschmids, he though shaking his head in disdain. 

The race was off with a hitch after Feliciano announced it with a wave of his handkerchief. The younger few cheered loudly for the men, clapping and jarring at each other. Lovino simply couldn’t even fathom a cheer for this Hebert fellow. 

Alfred drank from his tea cup, a confused eyebrow raise, “who poisoned your tea?” He asked, “you’re the one who told me this would fun, but here I am watching some buffoon run around the courtyard.” 

“Antonio is not a buffoon,” Lovino couldn’t help, but spat at the other, “he’s trying his best, though look at Ludwig.” 

The blond in question was booking it like his life depended on it. It was as if a monster was behind him and he was struggling to get away. “Sign him up for my bets,” Alfred turned his head towards the fountain, much more happier to watch the water than this hopeless show. Just watching his brother wave around his hand and words of encouragement for a man that he had never met. Total muck to him. 

“Now what is this,” it was as if Alfred froze as the British voice asked behind the two enjoying a simple tea party. 

“Mum!” Alfred hissed, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Looking up with an unmoving look, Lovino could tell even more how related the two were. Alfred had those soft freckles and sparkling eyes with so much amusement in the younger. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you startled me.” 

Ignoring the other, he looked up to see the men running around like chickens with their heads cut off, pushing and grunting, while Ludwig stayed as superior in the front. “A race, who is your horse.” 

“Some Antonio guy,” Alfred set the paper down on the table, “he’s not going to win, so I don’t have to give him anything, that will make you happy Lovino?” 

“Me, happy?” Lovino fiend innocence, pressing a hand to his chest, “I could care less about that Spaniard, did I tell you he wants me to be his housewife, marriage should be love, not a servant arrangement.” 

“Amen,” Arthur nodded towards the other, startling Lovino from his speech. He didn’t expect a married man to agree with him, they were supposed to tell him to suck it up and get hitched. “My husband and I had an arranged marriage,” he informed the younger taking a seat at their tea party, “I told him if he was thinking I’d fall to his knees then he better start those divorce papers.” Lovino was suddenly very interested in what the other had to say.

“And what did Papa say?” Alfred voice was soft, childish as he changed his moody teen facade. 

The older carrier simply rolled his eyes at the action, leaning forward to pinch Alfred’s cheek, “he said, oh laipen all I need you to do is warm my bed, so I kicked him in the shin and slept in the guest room.” 

“Nice,” Lovino nodded along as Alfred burned with embarrassment from the tales of his parents being told to his new friends. “I’m sure he came around.” 

“Of course he did, I would of never had my little brats,” Arthur cooed at Alfred with a honey sweet smile. 

“M’not a brat,” The other said with no malice, pushing the pestering hand away from his cheek. Carriers always did have a special bond with their mothers, something untold between the two that brings them together. 

Being a teenage carrier was hard, all those emotions really never coming out from stunted growth. Everything just felt trapped inside and only a mothering hand that already knew how to go through it helped. 

At that moment, Ludwig crossed the finish line, brushing away a bucket of sweat from his forehead as the others caught up to him. “You’re fast,” Antonio breathed through pants, “how did you do it!” 

“I’ve trained,” Ludwig tilted his head to the side, “my father has taught me the way of the sword.” 

“I think fleeing is going to get you better, Lud!” Gilbert breathed through ragged lungs, collapsing on the grass for any kind of way to cool down his palpitating heart. 

The younger turned red at the thought of fleeing, he was not cowardly at all. It left a bad taste in his mouth. “What a great race, Good thing I didn’t bet that extra on you Gilbert,” Feliciano voice was chastising, but kind as he offered the young man a glass of water. 

“You flatter me, love,” Gilbert whined from the ground, accepting the drink to pour it over his face. Feliciano jumped back in surprise, though laughed at the playfulness. 

From the depth of his dress’s pocket, Feliciano produced a small cloth folded up in a neat square. With a smile he placed it on his chest, “you earned it, Beilschmidt.” 

Grasping at the silky fabric, it seemed comic to be given to him by Feliciano of all people. However some God must of been looking down on him, maybe he could finally get that damn money. Ludwig’s education was coming closer to him then he could breath. Though, not right now, breathing was really hard. 

“Go greet your winner,” Arthur egged on, though Alfred stayed seated. 

“I think he’s the least bit attractive,” He stated firmly, “all the men in this group aren’t my type. Plus Antonio is Lovino’s, what friend would I be if I got between the two.” 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Lovino smiles setting the cup down, “I’ll greet him as a loser, and take your advice Carrier Bonnefoy.” 

Standing up from his spot, Alfred gave him a thumbs up as Arthur poured himself his own tea. The party was more grand than the last garden party, Lovino seemingly floating in his red dress. His elbows rested against the farthingale letting every jewel sparkle in the sun as he approached the young man currently fanning himself violently with his hand. 

Antonio was quick to notice the other approaching, a smile lifting on his face as he wiped the sweat from his brow, “You lost,” was the first thing Lovino said, bluntly as ever to make the Spaniard’s face fall, “though you did make a good effort.” 

That was enough to send Antonio back in his heart eyes, “you look stunning in that dress, did you know red is my favorite color?” 

Lovino couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a fond look, “oh no, I just always do seem to look extra good in red, don’t you think.” 

If Antonio was a dog he’d be drooling by now, eyes searching over every twist and curve of Lovino’s body, “I must say you take away my lungs wearing something like that, I wish to Court you right here at this very moment.” 

“Don’t be so rash,” Lovino leaned on the tip of his toes to rest a gloved hand on the man’s sweaty cheek, “I’ll never be your little wife, so think again.” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, as he watched the cogs begin to work in Antonio’s head. It was slow, but his face changed from hurt, confusion, to slim chance of hope. “So a challenge?” He remarked. 

“I won’t go down without one,” Lovino grinned, before reaching in his pocket to pull out a red cloth. Antonio was like a bull, watching the fabric move in front of him like a pendulum, “this is for you, don’t lose it, it’s my favorite.” 

Reluctantly, he dropped it in the tan hands, Antonio bringing up to his nose to bask in the perfume of the carrier. “It’s like I’m holding you close,” he told the other quietly, “how I wish to hold you close, the real you, but may this do for now.” 

“Yes, May that do for now,” Lovino repeated back firmly, but with a glancing grin before stalking back to his seat. The Spaniard quickly stuffed the red handkerchief in his pocket before he entered back in the group of men who clapped him excitedly on the back. 

Before he made it to the table, Matthew stopped him with an excited smile before turning to Alfred and Arthur who pushed him forward with gentle, encouraging smiles, “should I give, Ludwig my handkerchief, would he like it?” 

Turning towards the man, he was surprised to see Feliciano talking to him. They were actually having a normal, civil conversation that it seemed like a dream. “Eh, I’m sure he’ll accept it.” 

That egged the smaller on, seemingly prancing over to the two. “Uh, excuse me!” He started in a soft voice, both Ludwig and Feliciano turning to him, “I’m so glad you won the race for me, please accept this as a gift!” He bent forward, the cloth held between his shaky fingers right above his head. 

“Uh,” Ludwig blushes beet red, “thank you, Matthew was it. Blue is my favorite color,” he said taking the cloth from the boy. 

When Matthew lifted his head, his cheeks were tinted with childish innocence. Though, what confused him was Feliciano who seemed to glower up at him, until they made eye contact. The young carrier simply put on a smile, one full of teeth and squinted eyes. 

“I’ll remember your favorite color,” Matthew promised with a big, hopeful smile. “Tonight will you dance with me?”

The stone cold look on the man’s face seemed to wash away from the innocence that ran through the other’s personality, “of course I will, if you’ll have me.” 

Beside him, Feliciano found himself practically shaking in anger. Why did Ludwig have to act so nice to some random Carrier. No, he shook it off quickly, Matthew was his friend, not just some random. Though this niceness left a rotten taste in his mouth. 

Looking between the two, Matthew quickly put up his hands in surrender, “oh I’m so sorry Feliciano, i didn’t know you liked Ludwig too!” 

“Huh?” Feliciano arched an eyebrow as Ludwig turned to him. “I don’t like him, I despise him.” He stated firmly, not missing the way the other agreed firmly with a nod. 

“Oh I apologize again!” Matthew cried with worried expressions of the thought of upsetting the carrier and the handsome man, “It’s just, you guys were looking at each other longingly. I’m sorry for assuming such.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Feliciano waved his hand off in a friendly, careless way. “How about I get you guys some drinks, yeah?” 

Walking away from the two, Feliciano quickly hid among the crowd of people. He was acting way to obvious wasn’t he. He knew one hundred percent that he had no feelings for that mule of a man, nothing but utmost rage. He insulted him on many occasions, Ludwig didn’t deserve his affection. 

Though- he wasn’t saying he liked to be insults, nor did he liked his paintings criticized so harshly. But the blunt attention, it was.... unfamiliar. 

Ludwig didn’t bow to him like every suitor, he didn’t treat him like a child or tell him things he wanted to hear. It was like he was talking to a human being, and his heart couldn’t stop the subtle race that went by when they locked eyes. 

Shaking his head, he quickly stole a couple wine glasses off a waiter’s tray, thanking him profusely before heading towards the group. Matthew had moved in closer to Ludwig, a warm smile on his lips as he twirled a strand of golden hair around his index. There was just a blink of interest in Ludwig’s eyes, as he nodded along. 

Feliciano only wanted those cold blue eyes on him. And that was one hundred percent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Lord Ivan, and what is his tricks? Alfred thinks maybe he’s just an ignorant prick, but something is odd about him

Behind the manor there was a big open field, one with sun dried grass and flowers that were never picked, so they grew taller enough to reach a man’s waist. Ludwig liked this place, he found it on accident a while back when he was shamelessly searching for any quietness in the bustling manor. It was almost like staying in a hotel, it would be quieter if the many others invited weren’t just so loud. Gazing out one of the many windows he saw a path, one small and barely seen between two low hanging trees. 

A voice in his head told him to follow it, an adventure just before his eyes just like he did when he was younger. Though he thought he had to be more adult, he couldn’t go running off to explore uncharted lawns, that wasn’t what a man did. 

He caved to himself quickly, diving into the stables to track down a horse that didn’t hate him at first sight and hitched it up all neat and pretty. He assumed that the horse was merely one to pull the carriages from its built body and gentleness to putting the harness and saddle on. She was not like Blitz back home who fought him every time he tried to go near him with a harness or Schwartz who would much rather jumping with excitement then staying focused. 

The mare was speckled with what looked to be black freckles across her strong back and rear. She leaned into his pets and gracefully carried him across the path such as one behind the manor. It was heavily wooded, but the path had been used so many times that no grass grew. it was just dirt. Animals darted in and around the path, Ludwig wishing he brought a bow to try his hand at game. 

Father had said he couldn’t bring his dogs either, he wondered how his dogs were doing without him. Maybe they’ve grown to skin and bone from all the scraps they aren’t given when he’s around. 

Around the time he reached the end of the pathway, the sound of water reached his ears. It was as if all the trees disappeared from the heavily wooded area to the large expanse of long grass. The sun beat down against his head causing a soft sweat to break, but it gave him a sense of adventure. In Germany it’s always so cold, adventuring around the castle called for a heavy coat, but here he was able to feel the breeze against his cheek and his hair fall from the sticky gel to his forehead. 

His guard was down, he no longer felt he needed to be so prim, nobody was watching him. Though out of the corner of his eye a person caught his vision and immediately he pulled on the reins of the horse. 

The auburn hair was the first thing to hit him. Just standing back so far it was hard to tell which twin was resting gently against the tree, but as he got closer he heard the soft noise of humming and trickles of creek water. Tying the horse to a lone tree, he peeked through a bit of tall grass to watch in silence. 

It was Feliciano, he confirmed. His hair, though usually cared for in tight curls and beautiful accessories was pulled away from his face with a few pins. The sun glowed down against his freckled cheeks and soft lips pursed in a lot of concentration. 

He was simply painting, something he come to wonder if the boy even did it for he never saw him doing it. Though now he was sure it was a hobby from his expanse of colors and the beautiful landscape sprawled on the thick paper. From the paintings in the house, the one in the sketch book seemed oddly scribbled. Squinting, he noticed as his left hand posed with a paint brush was shaking ever so slightly with every stroke. 

Casting away that thought, he continued to watch, almost feeling improper to not see Feliciano in beautiful gowns or a large necklace adorned with jewels. He was wearing just a simple white shirt, unbuttoned enough to show his pale chest. His dress pants was rolled a few times to his knees so he could dip his feet in the cold stream, his boots tossed impatiently in a heap with his cloak from the cold morning turning to a warm midday. 

Ludwig felt entrapped, it was as if a spell had been put on him to just stare. It was as if in the moment he was able to separate the uptight Nobel from the artist. He wanted just to watch, to breathe in the soft breath of humming and wash away his sweat in the cold river, but there was a beautiful obstacle in the way. 

His brain seemingly halted. Did he just describe the Veneziano Vargas as beautiful, no his ears must of been deceiving him. The witch himself was playing a trick with his brain, surely, he could never see him as beautiful from his sour behavior. 

“Who’s there!” Ludwig whole body went stiff as suddenly the amber eyes were on him, “I heard your foot crush a branch, come out you despicable peeper.” Ah there it was, the voice he so much despised that had come to call itself Feliciano. 

“Let your guard down,” he started cautiously from the bush, hands above his head like he was caught with a cookie from the cookie jar, “it is simply me.” 

The auburn carrier looked him up and down before snuffing ferociously, “my guard is even higher after seeing the likes of you,” Feliciano sneered, dropping his painting on the soft ground and standing up to approach Ludwig, “were you watching me this whole time, what a creep!” 

“I wasn’t watching you!” He answered defensively, “I was on the path and saw a figure by the river. I only came to see who had come back here! If I knew it was you I would of left on my merry way!” 

They stood in silence, both trying to size each other up, before Feliciano had fallen from the stance to grip his head. It was almost automatic that Ludwig caught the other by his shoulder, “hey-“ he started trying to get the other’s attention, “are you okay, damn Feliciano.” 

The other let out a whine, soft hands gripped around the side of his head, “I’m fine, get off of me,” with little strength he pushed away the blond weakly. 

“You’re sweating, are you feeling under the weather,” he asked, before getting an answer he chimed in furiously, “why are you outside in such a condition, what if you were to fall and I wasn’t around. What would you have done then.” 

“I know you’ll always catch me, Ludwig,” Feliciano voice was soft, his head lifting up and they were inches apart. Ludwig’s nose was practically brushing with the other, his heart speeding up in a way that confused him nonetheless. 

“Gah, what’s wrong with you right now,” he huffed, trying to ignore the expanse of red collecting on his cheeks, “this fever is making you hysterical, you still haven’t answered my question, why are you out here.” 

Again, the pauses always seemed to be a challenge, but this one was defeating. In Ludwig’s strong grip, Feliciano seemed to collapse even more until they both hit the ground, “please, I just got a little dizzy, stop asking such stupid questions.” 

When Feliciano looked up, Ludwig’s heart was crushed with how pitiful his expression was, “tell me,” he said firmly, “something is eating you, just tell me. I promise I’m not going to judge.” 

Feliciano bit his lip, seemingly debating within himself of should he talk and face the man he declared he hated so much, or continue to wallow in his own pity. “-I- Ludwig,” he muttered in defeat, “it’s Grandma,” he said after a while. 

“What about her, how is her health?” He offered, “I haven’t seen a lick of her since my brother and I have arrived at this estate.” 

“She can barely walk anymore,” Feliciano muttered playing with a blade of grass, “her health is declining rapidly. Mother and Lovino have devoted themselves to taking care of her, I feel if I’m under the weather Lovino might try to take care of me.” 

Furrowing his eyebrows he touched the older’s back, Feliciano didn’t even flinch, his back leaned in the soft touch, “and why should that be so bad. My brother always takes care of me when I fall ill.” 

“But that is such!” Feliciano bit back, “if Lovino would take care of me he won’t be there for Grandma and what if she dies, because I’m so selfish to get sick.” 

The outburst seemed so held back, filled with so much utter emotion. His eyes falling to his shaking hands, before he moved them to cover his pale face. 

“Feli,” he kept his voice quiet, leaning in on the other and draping his cloak over the other’s shoulder, “don’t call yourself selfish for something like that. I’ll take you back to the manor and watch over you tonight.” 

“And what, after this you’ll belittle me,” Feliciano mumbled as Ludwig began helping him up, “I don’t need your pity.” 

“I didn’t mean to belittle you!” Ludwig finally snapped, “you’re beautiful!” He stated in the other’s face, “you make me so nervous, I didn’t know what to say, you were just.... glowing!” 

“Glowing?” 

“Yes glowing! I don’t know if it was too much for me. So here’s me apologizing-“ 

“-a man apologizing to me for his mistake, it must be my lucky day,” Feliciano grinned stabilizing his dizzy body on the tree trunk to watch as Ludwig collected his supplies. 

“Ha Ha,” The blond sneered dryly, “very funny, yes I’m apologizing now close your mouth so I can continue,” Feliciano made motion to zip his mouth shut and throw the key away, “that’s just childish.” 

Feliciano proceeded to try to talk, but it came out muffled from him not opening his mouth. “Just accept it or I’ll have to force you to accept it.” 

He mimed trying to find the key he threw in the grass, when he couldn’t find the invisible key he turned back to shrug with a devious smile, “get over here, accept my confession!” 

Ludwig couldn’t help the burst of energy as he sprinted towards the other, lifting Feliciano with ease by his waist. He couldn’t of been heavier than one of his hunting dogs, though he pretended to have difficulty, “What have you been eating,” he joked. 

It surprised him at first, as Feliciano bursted into snorting laughter. His hands clumsily tried to find a way out, grabbing Ludwig’s wrist and digging his sharp claws in, “let me go you brute!” 

There was no malice in his voice, and Ludwig could see the playful glint with a dazzling smile, “oh no, you don’t get off that easy!” He yelled, manhandling the other to be situated under his armpit like he was some kind of bulky suitcase. “Time to take you back to your manor and if you won’t cooperate then I guess this is the only way!” 

Leaning down Ludwig threw Feliciano’s discarded cloak over his free shoulder and boots, heading down the narrow pathway to the horse. “You know,” the older chimed in, “I have two perfectly working legs, you don’t have to carry me.” 

“What was that?” Ludwig remarked, “you still haven’t accepted my apology so I’m gonna pretend I can’t hear you.” 

“You can’t-“ 

Ludwig proceeded to hum violently over the noise of his protest. “Georgia!” Feliciano voice broke through, “did you take my horse!” 

“This is your horse,” he lifted his hand to pet down her mane, Feliciano finally able to wiggle his way out of the grip, and snatching his shoes back to put them on. 

“Yes, her name is Georgia, I use to take her out with my Nonno in the winter to hunt,” Feliciano voice was soft as he petted her too, “Other than that we use her to carry the carriage.” 

“You hunt?” Ludwig couldn’t help but inquire excitedly. 

The other huffed impatiently, “stop repeating everything I say, yes I use to before I was brought up as a Carrier. Mama said hunting for game wasn’t ladylike.” 

“I like hunting,” Ludwig jumped in, “I mean, if my spouse could hunt too we could go on trips together,” blushing furiously, he focused his eyes on his moving hand on Georgia’s flank, “my grandpa has a hunting lodge-“ 

“I’m not staying in some frigid cabin for a honeymoon,” Feliciano cut him off with a well groomed eyebrow raised. 

“Who said that i was talking about you?” With a smirk, he leaned out of the view of the horse to stare at Feliciano who was grinning to himself. 

“I did, that’s who.” 

⭐️⭐️

It seemed like dejavu for Lovino to be standing again at the foyer awaiting the final guest. However, the difference between the Bonnefoy and Lord Ivan is that the Nobel was incredibly late. It was starting to piss him off, really. 

“You’ve been here forever,” jumping slightly, Lovino turned to see Alfred descending down the steps. Like he would usually expect, Alfred had been wrangled into a deep blue dress, one decorated in unique crystals and glass beads. The European Carrier never seemed to know the concept of dressing down. 

He was never one to be self conscious of what he was wearing, but next to Alfred he just seemed to be shadowed by the others beauty. “I’m waiting for the Russian,” he responded taking a seat on the last step, Alfred following in cue to sit next to him. 

“He’s really pulling the fashionably late thing,” Alfred muttered digging around his pocket to pull out his watch, “really, really, fashionably late,” he snickered. 

“I have things to do,” Lovino hissed bitterly, “I don’t have time to wait for some guy. At this rate, I’ll have to ask my mother to set up the dining hall and that’s my favorite thing to do!” 

Alfred hummed, resting his head in his hands as he looked at the unmoving door, “ehh, why can’t I just wait for this guy and you can go do your thing.” 

“I cannot ask of something like that,” Lovino firmly disagreed, “it is my duty, and if it’s my duty to wait around and greet this Russian Nobel, I’m going to see through it.” 

The other groaned, simply glaring out of the side of his eyes at the other, “sometimes you act like my uptight mum and I hate it.” 

“One day,” Lovino started, elbowing the other playfully when he groaned, “one day you will own a very pretty house and it’s going to be your duty to take care of what needs to be done.” 

“Yeah, and, over my dead body,” Alfred smiled elbowing the other back roughly, “there is no man on the planet I’d married! Even if he just walked through the-“ before he finished the heavy door was thrown open. 

Lovino launched up to his feet, dusting off the imaginary dust on his pants while Alfred hung his head in further disappointment of their conversation ending. Standing at the door was a tall shadow of a man, it seemed to loom across the polished wood floors from brightly lit sun against his back. 

“Lord Bradisky, welcome to the Great River Manor.” Lovino proceeded to bow deeply from his waist and up to standing, “I am Carrier Lovino, I am the Grandson of Mrs. Frot who owns this lovely house.” 

The tall man took a step in, closing the door roughly with his foot causing every beam in the house to shutter from the force. “Hello,” his voice was deep and thick with an exotic accent, “I am Ivan, good to meet such beautiful woman.” 

“Woman?” Lovino asked, looking a bit dumbfounded than he liked to present. 

“Yes,” Ivan chirped back, stepping into the light, showing himself and the three large suitcases in his arms. He was a broad man with pale skin void of any blemishes or freckles. His hair was a pale blond, it reminded Alfred of fresh snow outside his house. The stories, the memories, his childhood bare of constructing gender roles. He was fuming. “You are Carrier, yes? Carrier is woman.” 

“Carrier are men you ugly bootlicker,” Alfred sneered, standing up to somehow intimidate the taller man. It wasn’t much because he towered over the two carriers, but he did back away from Lovino. 

“Alfred, now,” the older’s voice was soft as he pressed a hand to Alfred’s chest, pushing him away, “I’m sorry about him, I’m sure Russia is much different than here.” 

“Ah no,” Ivan responded, his smile never faltering, it caused an uneasy mood to filter over the two, “your friend is like Russian woman, very strong and loud. I like tough woman.” 

“Stop grinning you idiot,” Alfred hissed venomously, “And again I’m not a woman, I’m a man.” 

Lovino sighed, of course this would be played out here. Carriers in some countries didn’t get much rights than he usually did here in America, but he assumed Russia would be the worst. The Slavic country was far north with a culture built on farming and textile industries. France was the biggest, but nothing could beat a handmade fur coat from the coldest country in the world. 

The woman and carriers there were cold people, they’ve built walls so high and so tough from the harassment day to day. Mother had visited there once with Father, he needed to touch up the mural he made years back and she said the woman there were as vicious as the men. 

Alfred cheeks inflamed with blush at the Slavic man standing in front of him. “Stand down Alfred,” Lovino turned to him, “Do you need any help with your bags, Lord Ivan, I can call a servant.” 

“You don’t wish to carry?” Ivan smirked, hands filled with the very large briefcases, “promise they aren’t heavy.” 

“I’ll carry one,” Alfred sneered holding out a helping hand. Ivan dropped the briefcase balanced haphazardly hanging from his left arm, Alfred faltering in his strong hold. 

“What’s in here!” He snapped straightening out, “bricks? I’ve never felt anything so heavy.” 

Ivan, even though was still smiling, there was a devious look in his eyes. A sparkle of humor from Alfred’s agony. “Would you like to take one?” He turned to Lovino. 

“Ah, no, I’m good,” he quickly turned down, “come along, Lord Ivan, I’ll show you to your room so you can put everything down.” 

“Thanks,” Alfred huffed following after the two, basically dragging the suitcase across the carpeted floor and up the stairs. Lovino cringed visibly from the loud bangs the suitcase was making on the stairs. 

“Maybe you should give back the su-“ 

“I’m fine, I have everything under control, Lovino!” Alfred cut him off angrily, finally reaching the top to haul up the suitcase to his chest. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he directed to Ivan. 

“Ah, Da, nothing a capable Carrier can’t handle,” the other chuckled in amusement. 

“Father help me,” Lovino huffed to himself, making his way down the hall, totally ignoring the two. Alfred continued down, more happily to drag the suitcase across the carpet floors than up the stairs while Ivan was humming a tune of some sort. 

It was starting to irk Alfred, everything about this guy was causing his heart to speed up and head to spin. It was really pissing him off. “Can you stop the obnoxious tune?” He asked feigning innocence. 

“It is a folk tune from my motherland,” Ivan returned, not even turning around to address the other, “I don’t find it obnoxious, it’s rather amusing.” 

Before Alfred could continue his complaining, from Feliciano’s door, Ludwig came from stopping the group. Lovino stopped, eyes narrowed and mouth slightly agape, “Ludwig-“ 

“Feliciano isn’t feeling well,” he yelped, “I wasn’t doing anything I promise,” he pushed open the door to show the younger carrier tucked into bed with a cool rag against his forehead. 

Lovino seemed to perk up, almost rushing to peek in, “Alfred, you know where Ivan’s room is, right?”

The other cringed already knowing what was going to be asked, “yeah,” he muttered. 

“Please, for me, will you take him. I need to take care of my little brother.” 

Everything in his person, told him to say no. To apologize to Lovino and tell him that Ludwig had everything under control. He didn’t want to be left alone with the brute, but they were slowly becoming friends and he did not wish to spoil the blooming relationship. 

Swallowing the bile slowly coming from his throat, he sighed, “go, be with your brother, I got Ivan.” 

Running up to him, Lovino kissed his cheek and thanked him profusely before slipping into Feliciano’s room with Ludwig hot on his heels. “You’re welcome,” Alfred muttered to the closed door, “let’s go Lord Ivan,” he hissed starting down the hallway. 

The Slavic man continued his humming and it made him already want to jump out one of the open windows and smash into the rose bushes below. “Can you please stop your humming,” he sneered through gritted teeth, “if you wish to sing, do it in church.” 

“I hear attitude,” Ivan remarked, it was as if he was putting his hand right in front of the rabid snarling dog. 

Taking a deep breath, Alfred tried to calm his fuming anger that was slowly bubbling to the top. His cheeks were getting red and his heart was speeding up, it was infuriating, “You can stop now, I don’t why you take pride in getting under my skin,” he bristled turning to glare. Ivan had to be a foot taller than him, so he had to lift his head to actually make eye contact. To the slavic man it was apparently hilarious, with a leather gloved hand he covered his smile that was quirked up. “Laugh at me one more time and I’ll make it your last laugh,” he warned. 

“You are so… threatening, Carrier Alfred,” he drawled in a way that only made him fume. “You are like… ah what they called, cat I believe. So bothered and violent.” 

Grabbing the door, Alfred was so glad to open it for the man, “This is your room, stay in there and never come out.” 

“I’ll only ‘come out,’” the bastard put it in air quotes, “for you Fredya.” 

“Don’t let the door hit you where the lord split you,” Alfred called, slamming the door in his face. They were separated by a thick piece of wood, but he could hear the rumble of laughter.

‘Why! Why was he blushing so hard’, he snapped to himself, not meaning to stomp down the hallway with a furious look. Ivan, or whatever his stupid name was, he was infuriating! Though, why was his heart looking forward to bantering back and forth with him later tonight. 

A small part, maybe the feminine brained Carrier, inside him sung from the attention. Every man that tried to court him didn’t see him as say a carrier like Lovino. He was delicate, waist thin and had an air to him, while Alfred could be compared to a cross dresser. Damn his parents for not cutting of his privates, who knew he would be a late bloomer, they should of just took a pair of scissors and snipped. 

His gut wrenched at the thought, his heart speeding up and dread filling his heart. It wasn’t their fault, he told himself, it wasn’t his mum’s or papa’s fault. They had less clue, and now they were just trying to help him the best they could. He was unloveable. He wasn’t beautiful like Lovino, talented like Feliciano, social like Matthew, he was just… Alfred. 

And in his head, that was the worst thing he could be. 

⭐️⭐️

Feliciano knew from a young age, that his element was on the dance floor. His mother would always propose extravagant balls at their manor and he had so many fond memories hidden on a balcony watching the bodies turn like tops. 

Their beautiful dresses swaying like petals, slowly falling from trees as they sashayed around a man of their dream. For now, Feliciano found himself watching, much to his disarray. His illness seemed rather prickly in the morning, but from the care of Ludwig and Lovino he was feeling a lot better by the time the dance and later dinner. 

However, the blond kept a close eye on him, his hand either wrapped tightly around his wrist or snug around his waist to whisk him away if anyone got too close. The action was cherished, much different now that they settled their feud with now a slight attraction.

It made his cheeks warm to know that Ludwig had lost his words the minute they met, it was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard to be exact. In front of any of the other sex, Ludwig was a calm and curt gentleman, but to Feliciano he was nervous and red in the cheeks. 

“Can we please dance?” He found himself begging, tugging gently at the fabric on Ludwig’s shoulder, like a child tugging on their mother’s skirt to get attention. “I’m feeling much better.” 

Ludwig’s hand lifted to Feliciano’s forehead, the sheer size almost wrapping fully around his skull. It made him feel small, in a good way. “You are still a bit warm, though,” he cautioned. 

Feliciano placed his hand over the other, taking it from his head to down between the two, swinging them childishly, “I’m okay, please dance for me.” 

A battle was going on his face before he made eye contact with those honey brown eyes. Every worry physically melted from the young man’s body, “okay, but let’s hurry the song has almost started.” 

The older’s face broke out in a wide smile, as he followed eagerly behind. Ludwig practically lifting him off his feet to situate him in front of him and when the song started they began to move. It was like he was floating, his feet never touching the ground, shoes practically dangling from his toes as he was carried across the floor. 

If he could describe the experience, it would be like something out of a fairytale. Feeling the warm air brush past his body, his grip tightly wound around Ludwig’s neck, and probably the best part was the big dopey smile that spread across the German’s face. This was the first time, he probably could mark down a time he saw him smile, a real, genuine one. It was practically infectious, a smile forming on Feliciano’s lips just a smidge before he let out bubbling laughter when he was dipped and thrown around like a doll. “Are you trying to get me sick again?” he taunted at the other playfully. 

“You are just so light!” Ludwig exclaimed over the music, “I noticed when we were behind the house, you are just so… carriable.”

“Probably why they call us carriers,” Feliciano giggled back. It took Ludwig a moment to process the full joke, before he let out a bark of laughter. It was unlike the Duke to be, but what Feliciano was finding so quickly that what he perceived the man to be in the beginning was very different than  _ his Ludwig. _ It sounded so cheesy and stupid. He never called a potential suitor his own, they’ve always been just a man. One that would listen to his ramblings or another that would play prey to his jokes. Ludwig was in all ways becoming his, like a beautiful rococo painting he’d painted and sign his name on the bottom.

His brain was running with images after images of a life with him. A life with Ludwig maybe wouldn’t be as bad as some suitor his Mama would pick out and force him to marry. They had this dynamic, a game of cat and mouse where they’d tease and pick on, but he knew Ludwig was always there to pick up the pieces. They’d have a fall wedding, he thought dreamily, one where the snow is finally falling and they’d go up to the northern cabin. Hunt in the thick snow and then fall into bed cuddling each other in warmth. 

“You seem lost in thought,” Ludwig remarked after a minute, his big smile had dulled down to just an amused grin as he sat the smaller, finally, on his feet. “I didn’t even know your brain actually worked up there.” 

“Ha Ha, I’m screaming with laughter,” joked the other back, “I was just…” he paused briefly eyes wandering to the sparkling chandeliers and starry sky out the many windows. “Just about us.” he decided with a smile. 

“Good.” Ludwig stated firmly, “because all I could think of on that floor was how beautiful you look tonight.” his voice ghosted against the conch of Feliciano’s ear, big warm hands squeezing around his bicep to lean in close. If he wasn’t being held up, his jelly legs would have most certainly made him fall. 

Turning towards the other, their faces were inches apart. They couldn’t kiss, it wasn’t accepted, but by God he wished it was. He would have leaned in so close to mingle in the warm breath of the other, “shut up, silly,” he decided on, giving a weak punch to the man’s strong bicep. 

From across the floor, Matthew found himself entrapped in the scene unfolding in front of him. Of course, he wasn’t as mad as he told himself he was over Feliciano stealing his winner, but the handkerchief he gave Ludwig was burning a hole in his empty pocket. Would the auburn hair carrier be mad at him for what happened, no, Feliciano was really understanding, but the thought made his stomach do uneasy flips. “Well if it isn’t our newest bird,” a voice announces it presence in Matthew’s ear, making him jump and turn to the offender. 

It was… Gilbert he believed his name was. He had light blond hair just like Ludwig’s, but it seemed almost white in the candlelit ballroom. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked looking at the taller man up and down. Gilbert was well dressed in a dark suit that just worked for him. Most pale people, as Matthew himself, were drowned out in a dark blue, but it seemed to just accent the thin figure. 

“Well,” the other grinned, switching sides to talk in a playful manner, “all these Europeans are coming down to America for the warm weather, just like birds flying south for the winter. Dare I say, are you enjoying this gorgeous weather.” 

“It’s rather humid,” he told the other, a hand coming up to play with a curl of blond hair, “my hair isn’t taking much to the heat.” before he continued he was suddenly mauled over by Alfred. The blond let out a gasp, hands bracing on the other’s chest to push him out of his personal space. 

“He’s here,” he hissed coming closer, an uncouth hand lifting to point across the ballroom at the tall man leaning down to tower over Feliciano. Ludwig arm slipped around the carrier’s waist to pull him away from the slavic man. “It’s Ivan.”

“Lord Ivan,” Gilbert remarked in a thick tone.    
  


“Ivan the terrible,” Matthew added. 

After Alfred left Ivan to his room, he left in a hurry to share what happened to him to Matthew. Mother had stated that he should just be nice, but when did he ever listen to what Mother said to him. It was a scandalously crafted story that Alfred painted about a man who spoke little english and had some weird ethnic practice of calling Carriers woman. Matthew had remarked he probably sees them as property. 

“Should I talk to him?” 

“Should you talk to who?” Lovino came from the thick crowd, with Antonio beside him. “What’s going on, all of you are acting like some gossiping housewives.” 

“It’s Ivan, the new guy, apparently he’s some kind of sexist,” Matthew provided crossing his arms in an unsure manner, “I don't know, maybe Alfred was just stretching the story.” 

“I wasn’t stretching anything,” Alfred bit back, “He called me a woman, I am a carrier.” 

“He is getting rather close to Feliciano,” Lovino mumbled in thought, “I’ll talk to him, Alfred please don’t get in my way.” 

“Nope, I'm sooo getting in your way,” Alfred quipped racing after the older Italian. A disaster was prickling in the air, just like a storm ready to start it’s downpour. The question was simply… when. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! Thank you so much for reading all the encouraging comments. I worked really hard to get this out, sorry for the lateness. I think by know people know it’s my things!


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